Take No Prisoners
by Kitiara Raistlin
Summary: Brock Rumlow's warning to Sam came from experience. There was order and there was pain. But then there had also been the Soldier. Where had he fit in with the rest? Not compliant with anything after Winter Soldier.
1. Chapter 1

_"There are no prisoners with HYDRA. Just order. And order only comes with pain."_

There had been pain. There had been a lot of pain. Not a be-put-in-a-machine-and-have-your-brain scrambled pain, and there had been choices made, but there had still been pain.

It had been his first week in the black ops unit. His first bloody week. Rumlow had a picture somewhere from that week. He'd just been a kid. Barely out of the army. His strike force had been assigned a mission. He had been so excited.

Well. Showed what he knew.

They'd been sent in to what was supposedly a terrorist base with the mission of rescuing a prisoner and bringing back whatever intel they could recover. But they'd been betrayed. Somehow the enemy knew they were coming. Of course, once he learned how deep into everything HYRDA was, it wasn't such a surprise that the enemy had known exactly where they would be, since it turned out that it wasn't a terrorist base. It was a HYDRA base.

Every one of his team members died that night. Every last one of them. But not him. He'd fought. He'd fought harder and fiercer than he ever knew he could. He'd felt rage, and anger, and terror, and desperation. He killed scores of them. It was that fight instinct that earned HYDRA's respect. When they finally took him down they'd decided to keep him alive.

HYDRA didn't take prisoners. Only recruits. They turned you or they killed you.

He hadn't wanted to die. He'd been weak. But what really did it, what really broke him, was when Pierce walked in and started calmly and coolly describing to him exactly how far HYDRA reached. And that's when he realized, there wasn't any point in fighting. There was only HYDRA.

Maybe a part of him still thought he could fool them. Win their trust and then betray them once he was well and truly free. But by the time he'd earned their trust, he had lost any part of himself that wasn't HYDRA. And that realization was a different kind of pain.

It became his life. It was his life. He didn't have friends. He didn't have relationships. There was HYDRA and that was it. He supposed with that kind of isolation it was natural that eventually he would go a little mad. Which was probably why he started to delude himself and call _him_ his friend. The Winter Soldier. How could you be friends with someone who was dead inside? Though when he put it that way, he wasn't sure if he was taking about himself or the Soldier.

It began after the first mission he was assigned to with the Soldier. He'd heard stories about the man of course. In HYDRA, stories about the Soldier were popular. He was built up to be an unstoppable killing machine. He was a legend. And what better way to make yourself feel like a big man than to inflict a little pain on someone who was supposed to be so 'tough'. At least that's what some of the newer recruits thought.

Rumlow had walked in to find the Soldier restrained, as three recruits took turns using him as a punching bag. The recruits were laughing between swings and drinking. A shattered beer bottle was on the floor, and blood was dripping from one of the larger shards. Had they been cutting the Soldier?

The Soldier didn't fight, didn't resist. But the immense pain was evident on his face.

By that point, Brock had been around HYDRA long enough to have earned some authority and he soon had stopped the recruits' little 'party' and sent them off.

As he undid the Soldier's restraints he couldn't resist a certain jolt of fear. Would the Soldier lash out at him? There were stories…

But he didn't. The Soldier just slumped forward, breathing heavily, clutching his side.

"Here," said Brock. "Let me help you."

The Soldier looked up at him with the closest thing to an expression most people ever saw on his face. It looked almost like confusion. Probably no one ever offered to help him with anything. No matter how much pain he was in. Even when a doctor patched him after a mission it was cold, methodical, and sometimes cruel. The doctor didn't care about minimizing pain. Only making him heal.

Brock took the Soldier, and dressed the wounds as best he could. The recruits had really done a number. But at least the Soldier's healing factor would soon fix that.

Next time Brock and the Soldier were assigned to the same mission, Brock kept an eye out. It felt absurd to be trying to protect the deadliest assassin in the world, but there was something about him being abused and tortured that didn't sit right with Brock. Not while the man couldn't even fight back.

During their third mission together, a snow storm stranded them in a small town. Most of the team got put up in a rundown motel, but as the most senior person on the task force, Brock got better accommodations and he insisted that the Soldier stay with him. He said it was to keep an eye on the asset, but he didn't say it was to make sure no bored recruits decided to start torturing him again. Since that first time, Brock had heard more stories, worse stories, not least among them was that the Soldier was sometimes used as a 'test dummy' to teach new interrogators how to…'question people'.

It was a long cold night and Brock wasn't tired and it didn't seem like the Soldier ever slept. Who could blame him, given how long he spent frozen?

Sometime after midnight, Brock started talking. He wasn't sure exactly how it happened. He was pretty sure he started by grousing about the weather and how dismal it looked outside. But somewhere around four in the morning he was telling the Soldier about Amy…the girl he'd been engaged to, before he left after joining HYDRA. He couldn't bear to be with her then. It would be a lie. And if she ever knew the truth about him, it would kill her.

The Soldier never really responded much. He said a few things. Maybe asked one or two questions. But nothing much. It was all in the same tone he used when being debrief. Yet somehow, it felt like he was listening. And it was good to have someone listening after no one listening for so long.

After that he talked to the Soldier a lot. Brock even found himself calling him his 'friend' in his head. He knew it wasn't healthy. He knew that if the Soldier was actually in control he'd probably kill Brock for working with the people who'd turned him into a puppet. But it was better than nothing, right? Well, maybe.

Since he couldn't pay the Soldier back any other way, instead he paid him back by being kind whenever he was in charge of him and protecting him. When he was in charge of the mission, he tried to give the Soldier the less dirty jobs if he could. It was the best he could do. Not much. But the best.

Sometimes he wondered if the Soldier even recognized him. But he told himself it didn't matter. Deep down he knew he was only deluding himself in thinking he had a friend anyways. The Soldier was a mindless machine. Friendship didn't enter into anything. But Brock still found himself looking forward to the next mission with him. He always preferred it when the Soldier hadn't been recently wiped. He always seemed more natural then. It was easier to pretend.

When Rumlow met Steve Rogers it was a shock. When he was sent to take Rogers down, it hurt. It hurt more than any order had in a long time. And it hurt because he knew in a past life, Rogers had truly been a friend to the Solider. For one fleeting second, he imagined taking a different road. Helping Steve rather than fighting him. He could tell him about the Soldier. They could stop HYDRA. It was the first thought of rebellion he had had in a very, very long time. But he knew it was useless. There was no stopping HYDRA. And then he remembered the pain.

And HYDRA didn't take prisoners. He betrayed them now…there would only be pain and then there would be the end.

"I just want you to know, Cap, this isn't personal," he had said.

And he had meant it.

But he didn't have a choice.

Later, he watched Pierce debriefing the Soldier after the fight on the bridge. He saw the expression in the Soldier's eyes as he insisted "I knew him." It was a broken look. It looked like how Brock felt.

Maybe that's why he said it. He and the Soldier were alone, preparing before setting out. The platforms would be launched today. HYDRA would well and truly win the whole world. This was it. Brock privately considered the fact that he would probably blow his brains out tonight. He couldn't endure the world order that was about to come.

He glanced towards the Soldier. The man was stiff and silent. He always was after being under the machine recently.

This man had given him sanity. And what had Brock ever really given him in return?

"Bucky."

Brock hadn't ever said the name out loud before. He wasn't sure he had ever even thought it.

The Soldier looked up, frowning.

Brock glanced around. The rest of the team would be there soon and he didn't have much time. This was a pointless risk which he was sure would accomplish nothing. But what did it matter? This was his last day.

"Try and remember Steve. If you see him today…remember him. Steve. You know him."

"What are you talking about?" the Soldier asked.

But then someone entered the room, and it was as if the Soldier knew Brock was saying things he wasn't supposed to be saying, because he instantly turned away from him.

Brock sighed. There hadn't been any recognition in those eyes. Pierce had seen to that. Oh well. A wasted effort. It was all the fight he, Brock, had had in him. And it had been for nothing. And pathetic. Just like the rest of his life.

Hail HYDRA. For there was nothing else left.

Only that wasn't quite true. The day surprised him. In more ways than one.

The fight had been more difficult than he had expected. He had been surprised when so many SHIELD agents stood up and fought. He wondered briefly if, all things being different, there was a version of the world in which he might have been one of them. If he'd never gone on that mission all those years ago. If he'd never fallen into HYDRA's hands.

He had faced off against that man…Sam Wilson was his name right? And he had told Wilson what to expect:

"This is going to hurt. There are no prisoners with HYDRA. Just order. And order only comes with pain. You ready for yours?" _Because I wasn't ready for mine,_ he had thought.

And then there'd been running, and pain, and fire, and he had wondered briefly, _what's become of my friend_. Because he was sure he was dying. And he might as well lie to himself if he was dying. And then there had been blackness.

Only that wasn't the end. It should have been. But someone pulled him out of the rubble. Someone took him to a private, secret hospital where no questions would be asked, by anyone. No one would find him here. Not what was left of SHIELD and not what was left of HYDRA.

As doctors put him on a stretcher and wheeled him away, he was just conscious enough to turn his head and watch a dark, solid figure, walk away out of sight. It was a figure he knew. A walk he knew.

The Soldier had come back for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Not sure how long this story will go...but it at least has become a two-shot now :-).**

The Winter Soldier stood staring at the museum display. His own image stared back at him. Only it wasn't quite his own image. The man in the picture looked proud and fearless. He looked like a hero. Everything he, himself, was not. The features might be the same…but the man was different.

 _Bucky_.

He tried the name out in his head.

 _Bucky_.

It sounded familiar. It felt like a piece of a puzzle that fit neatly into place.

 _Bucky._

Is that who he was?

He turned his back on the picture and looked around the rest of the exhibit. Captain America was all around him.

 _Steve_.

 _Try and remember Steve._

Brock had said that. His fist clenched.

Brock Rumlow.

He wished right now that he had command of his own darn thoughts. Everything was still a jumbled mess. Scenes would flash through his head but they were all out of order, distorted. Yet to the best of his ability when he looked back he saw a dark, massive ocean of death, killing, pain, and cruelty. And he saw Brock Rumlow. The one person he could remember ever having a kind word for them. But more than that, he had vague memories of being treated…almost like an equal. He remembered Brock talking to him. Handing him a beer. The Winter Soldier had stared at it for an awkwardly long time. No one had ever done that for him before. Not even on a mission, since his missions were always the 'seek and destroy' type. He never had to blend in. Because all he did was kill. Occasionally capture. Then kill.

Suddenly a memory jostled its way to the head of the line.

 _"He's not talking."_

 _Brock swore in frustration._

 _They were in a large mansion on the edge of the Swiss Alps. It was a summer home of Fredrick Silvers. A man who was currently bound to a chair in the dining room, stubbornly refusing to give the information they had come for._

 _The Winter Soldier stood on the edge, watching Brock thinking._

 _"What have you tried?" Rumlow asked._

 _The other man shrugs. "We beat him up a bit. But, we were told to keep him more or less intact. I'm not doing more without permission."_

 _"Yeah. Yeah. HYDRA doesn't want him too harmed." Brock sighed, unhappy. "Hold on." He pulled out his radio. "Pierce?"_

 _A voice comes through the line. "Yes?"_

 _"Silvers isn't talking. What do you want us to do? Shall we ask more forcibly?"_

 _"No. Silvers isn't the kind of man who will respond to pain. At least not his own. Do you have his family?"_

 _"Yeah. His wife and daughter are upstairs."_

 _"Good. Have the asset shoot the wife. She won't be any used to us, she and Silvers can't stand each other. He'll never talk for her sake but seeing her die in front of him will show that we mean business. And then have the asset show exactly how much pain can be dulled out to the girl. Silvers will talk for her. Eventually. But it will take a little time."_

 _Brock hesitated, his eyes flicking towards the Soldier. The Soldier was tense. Something in the back of his head, a feeling or an instinct, felt like it was crawling to get out. It had flared to life at the idea of hurting the girl…but it was so small, so far back in his head, under so much programming, that it would never get out. He would do his mission. He would follow orders like he always did. Still, it made him uneasy. Brock was speaking, curtly: "Understood." And shut off the radio._

 _"Alright," said Brock, turning to the other man. "I want everyone out of the dining room except Silvers family, the asset and myself. Understood?"_

 _"Yes sir."_

 _"You," said Brock, pointing at the Soldier. "You're with me."_

 _As the other man disappeared, and Brock and the Soldier started walking towards the dining room, Brock pulled him aside._

 _"Look, I'm going to do this. I'll shoot the wife and I'll…" He paused, an expression that the Soldier couldn't quite describe to himself but somehow reminded him of that thing in the back of his own head, crossing his face, "I'll deal with the girl."_

 _"But the orders were-"_

 _"I'm in charge of this strike force. And right now I'm your commanding officer and I'm telling you how this is going down. I'm doing this. Not you."_

 _Brock pushed past him without another word and went into the dining room, the Soldier following._

 _Silvers, bound tightly to a chair, was bloody from having taken a few punches but in general still seemed to have a lot of fight left in him. That fight wavered five minutes later as his wife and seven year old daughter were lead into the room. But he was a cold hearted bastard. It was another hour before he broke. But the Soldier never touched anyone. Brock did it all._

Bucky jerked involuntarily, knocking into the group of tourists behind him. He mumbled an apology and rushed out.

There was a lot of blood on his hands. Men, women, and children. But what had happened that night to the Silvers family wasn't on him. Brock had seen to that. Brock had protected him from that.

An urge to hit something, break something, washed over Bucky. Brock maybe. Break a couple of bones if he had any intact after having a building crash on him…

Bucky didn't want to feel like this. Like he owed Brock anything. He might not have most of his memories but he had enough to know he had done so many awful things, had so much blood on his hands, that he couldn't repay it. And now he had a debt to a HYDRA soldier? He told himself he'd repaid it. He had saved Brock's life. He'd taken him to the hospital. But then…could you ever pay back a man who had struggled to keep you sane during years of hell?


	3. Chapter 3

Brock stared up at the hospital ceiling. He wished there were at least cracks he could count, but it was smooth and unblemished. He supposed he should be glad he was alive. A helicraft and a building had fallen on him and he'd lived to tell the tale. Not many men could honestly say they'd survived that. The doctors hadn't been sure that he would. He wished they'd been right. Or at least that he was still in that blissful realm he had floated in for a month between life and death. Not completely unconscious, but too full of painkillers to care or think.

But now he was fully conscious and his brain was fully working.

He didn't care about his face. He'd only seen it fully for the first time last week. The doctors had tried to ease him into the shock. They thought it would wreck him. They'd even had a physiatrist on hand. But what did it really matter? He just looked on the outside at last how he felt on the inside. Now everybody would recognize him for what he was.

Though, he had to admit, it was going to make it more difficult to hide. And hide he would have to do. As long as he was here in the hospital, he was relatively safe. And it would be a couple of months more before he was likely to be well enough to leave it. Two months down, two to go, and then what?

HYDRA searching for him. SHIELD searching for him. He'd be a wanted man for the rest of his life and odds were they'd catch up to him eventually, sooner rather than later. And it would be HYDRA who would. It was always HYDRA. How long would the running last? Maybe he didn't want it to last that long.

He had thought that he couldn't live if HYDRA won. Maybe he couldn't live now that they'd lost either.

Brock looked around the room. He'd only been moved there this morning, finally out of intensive care. Exasperated at himself, he grabbed the TV controller and switched on the TV, mindlessly flicking through the channels. He hadn't watch TV in months. He'd never watched much of it. In fact mostly he just watched it when he and Soldier had ended up hulled up in a motel during a mission. He fancied that the Soldier enjoyed the distraction sometimes. Or maybe that had just been himself projecting again.

Either way, he needed to stop thinking.

As he passed a news channel he paused, the name 'HYDRA' catching him off guard. What was the news saying?

For the next ten minutes he stared as two reporters gave the rundown of several recent arrests. From several more casual comments he slowly began to understand that all SHIELD files had been dumped online…along with HYDRA's.

Wow. A lot really had had happened the day those helicrafts crashed. And a lot had been happening while he was out.

HYDRA would be severally weakened. He at least had a chance now of staying off their radars then. And SHIELD, well if what he was hearing was correct, SHIELD was no more either.

Did that mean he was free? And what about the Soldier? What had happened to him?

He still remembered the hazy sight of the Soldier walking away from him. He'd gone over it again and again in his head. The Soldier had owed him nothing, and yet he had come back. He didn't know why that thought kept returning.

Darn. He'd turned on the TV to stop thinking and it had just made it worse. He shut it off again.

HYDRA. HYDRA was gone. Not gone, he amended, but weakened. On the run. What remained would be fractured and broken until it either dissolved completely in time or rebuilt itself several generations from now.

 _Unless it's not given that option._

He sat up suddenly, a jolt of pain shooting through him but he ignored it, focusing on that thought.

HYDRA. The one thing he hated more than himself and it was weak and on the run.

Brock could run for the rest of his life. Or he could take those days, probably shorten them, and fight back. Follow the snake into its lair and cut off whatever heads remained. Kill, burn, and bury whatever was left. It might be justice or it could be vengeance, but he couldn't care less. This was his future. He knew that now.

He would heal. He would leave here. And then he would hunt.


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky woke himself up with a yell. Sweat beaded down his back and he was panting. Another nightmare. Or another memory. He didn't know which it was and he wondered if that might not be better. Still, he forced himself to grab his backpack out from under his bed. He glanced through it and then pulled out a notebook and started writing down his dream. Once he figured out if it were fact or fiction, he would tear out the page and place it one of the other notebooks. He was trying to keep things organized, trying to build a picture of his past.

There was a white notebook for any memories that contained Steve before the war. A yellow notebook for the old memories without Steve: there weren't many of those. A blue notebook for everything during the war. A purple notebook for the things he'd decided were only nightmares. A black notebook for the pain. Red notebooks for…the deaths. There were a lot of red notebooks.

And then, at the very bottom of the backpack, buried under all the others as if he were trying to forget it was there: a green notebook. Sometimes he thought about burning it. But it was part of his past and his grasp on his past was so fragile already that he didn't think he could afford to throw any more bits of it away. Even the bits that didn't fit.

The green notebook was mostly about Brock Rumlow. Because it was the memories with him in them that didn't fit anywhere else. They weren't before the war and they weren't during it. They weren't dreams. He was sure of that, as surreal as they seemed next to the rest of his time as the Winter Soldier. Sometimes there was death, but never like in the other memories. And there was never pain.

He read over the notebooks quite frequently. Sometimes to try to jog his memories. Sometimes when he felt liking he was drowning. Sometimes to punish himself. But the green one was only taken out when he had another one to add to it. He didn't like looking over it. It confused him.

HYDRA. Just thinking the name made him want to bite, break, tear, claw, hurt. But tied to those memories, bound so close that they couldn't be separated, were those little bits that didn't fit. They weren't right. They had…something in them. Kindness?

The word had lost all meaning to him a long time ago. It was a concept so remote he had forgotten it existed. And it shouldn't be in there with HYDRA, and yet it was.

 _Brock swore and hit the wall with the butt of his gun in frustration._

 _The mission had gone…less than ideally. And the Soldier knew why. It was his fault. He hadn't been where he was supposed to be. Which was, to say the least, unusual. There would be questions. The Soldier failing a mission was practically unheard of._

 _And yet, it wasn't his fault. He would have been on the hill. He would have taken the shot. He would have killed the kid. Only Brock had ordered him to stand down._

 _"Someone else will take the shot."_

 _"The orders-"_

 _"I don't care about the orders. This is the way we're doing it."_

 _But things had gone wrong. The shot had missed. The driver had been injured but managed to make off with the boy. It was going to be a mess to clean up. The local government had gotten involved already._

 _As the Soldier watched Brock, he realized that the man was afraid. He was scared of what HYDRA would do. Maybe it was because it had been a busy month and the Soldier hadn't been wiped for a while or been in the chair, but whatever it was, he knew he didn't like the idea of Brock taking the blame._

 _Which is why once they had finally managed to complete the assignment and return to base, the Soldier made sure he got to talk first._

 _"Mission report," someone had said. Brock was in the room. The man opened his mouth to say something, but the Soldier cut him off._

 _"I failed on the shot." It was the truth. And it was a lie._

 _"Why?" One of the scientists demanded._

 _"My arm." He gestured to the metal one which, an hour ago, he had tinkered with so that when the scientists looked, they would find something. "Something went wrong with it."_

 _It was all the truth. He didn't think he had the power to lie to them. Hopefully they wouldn't ask too many more questions. He could only strain the truth so far. If it hadn't been so long since he'd been put in the chair, he doubt he could go this far either._

 _He was glad that they took his explanation at face value. They fixed his arm, but then he was sent to the chair. They decided he should have alerted his handlers earlier that something was malfunctioning, and a wipe would help sort out any problems._

 _The last thing he saw before the cold metal locked onto his head, and the pain drove out any other thoughts, was Brock's face. The man looked nauseous. The next time the two would meet, the Soldier would have no memory of the encounter. Brock would. He would be extra nice to them on the airplane as they flew out to Cuba._

But Bucky remembered the encounter now. Suddenly and out of nowhere. He buried his head in his hands, stuck somewhere between rage and grief and unable to find a way out.

Why had he done it? He'd protected Rumlow. But Rumlow was just like the others: HYDRA. That was all that mattered. It didn't matter how you did it. You served HYDRA, you deserved whatever fate dealt out to you. But the Soldier had fought his programming to help him. Just like he'd fought his programming on the helicraft when he'd heard Steve say, "I'm with you 'til the end of the line."

Almost violently, thinking it was better than following this train of thought any further, Bucky pulled out the green book to write this new memory down.


	5. Chapter 5

"I thought we were the Avengers, not Fury's janitorial squad," said Tony, a little testily. It was an early Saturday morning and he'd rather be sleeping right now for another five or six hours before having a leisurely brunch with Pepper than flying through the Canadian wilderness.

"Does he always complain this much?" asked Sam's voice over the coms, flying half a mile to his left.

"Hey, new guy doesn't get to complain about my complaining."

"Stark, what we're doing here is important." That was Steve, a couple of miles back on the quinjet.

"Look Cap, I know you got a personal grudge against HYDRA, but after the beating you, Natasha, and Fury gave them, I'm just saying you don't need _all_ the Avengers to go take out a couple of straggling hideouts of theirs. And I could still be asleep at six o'clock on a Saturday."

"We're coming to the base. Why don't you boys argue about this later?" asked Natasha.

"Fine. But we are talking about this. If Fury thinks he can just send out the Avengers on menial tasks…anyone could handle this. Bruce and Thor are so lucky, they get to sit this one out."

In another ten minutes, the three story concreate building appeared on the landscape, crouched among several tall pine trees and hills.

Tony saw Sam swooping to his left, circling round to come at the building from the far side.

"JARVIS, what are you reading?"

"Nothing sir. I am not picking up any heat signatures."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive sir."

"We're sure this place is still being used by HYDRA?" asked Tony.

"As of yesterday morning. Satellites confirmed it," Natasha responded.

"Huh. Something's weird then."

"I think I see something," said Sam. "Hold on. I'm landing." Tony watched from his vantage point as Sam landed on one of the hills that looked down on the north side of the building. "Um Stark. You might want to join me here."

Tony obliged, landing smoothly at the man's side. "What is it?"

Sam pointed. Tony turned and looked at the building.

"Huh. Guessing that's not a design choice."

There was a big gaping hole in the wall. From the blackened, jagged edges of the hole, it looked like a very powerful explosive had been used. At least two bodies lay on the ground nearby.

"Captain, someone's been here already." Tony started walking down the hill, Sam following. "This building's already been attacked and from the looks of it, HYDRA didn't win."

"What are you talking about?"

"Someone blasted a pretty large hole in the side of this wall. And JARVIS isn't picking up any heat signatures. I think someone beat us to this place."

Once they reached the hole, the two stepped through it. Inside was a mess. It looked like the HYDRA agents had been trying to pack up and leave when the attack happened. There were boxes and papers scattered everywhere. Two crates had been smashed open. And at least seven bodies lay on the ground.

"I'll go check for any survivors," said Sam, heading off deeper into the building.

By the time he was back, the quinjet had landed and the others were gathered in the room.

"Anything?" asked Steve.

"Nope. Everyone's dead."

"Who would have done this?" asked Clint, his bow still at the ready just in case.

"Well," said Tony, his helmet sliding down to reveal his face. "I can think of at least one person." He glanced at Steve.

"Who?"

"Your buddy. Winter Soldier. Hardened assassin. Big grudge against HYDRA. Ring a bell?"

"Bucky wouldn't do this."

"Come on Cap. I know you two are war buddies, but he's been killing people for the last seventy years. You really think that this is beyond him?" asked Tony, gesturing around.

Steve opened his mouth to argue but Natasha cut in.

"Rogers is right. Bucky wouldn't do this."

"Really? He wouldn't?" asked Tony skeptically. "Didn't I hear a charming little story about him shooting a _bullet_ through you just to get to the guy you were protecting?"

"What I mean," said Natasha, "is this isn't his style. Believe me, when I was hunting for the Winter Soldier, I poured over all his reported killings. This doesn't fit with those. He is a master infiltrator. He's stealthy. He's precise. He doesn't blow a hole into the side of a building when it's easier to pick off the people inside one by one without alerting them. I'm not saying he's incapable of killing HYDRA agents. But he wouldn't do the mission like this."

"So someone else did it then? And since it wasn't us, and you're so sure it wasn't Bucky Barnes, who do you think is taking on the unenviable role of Fury's Janitorial Squad for us? Cause I'd love to get in sync with them. Cause if we had good communication with them I could be sleeping right now. Did I mention that?"

"I don't know who did. HYDRA has a lot of enemies and it's weak. Dying. That brings people out of the woodwork. And then there's always HYDRA itself."

"Huh?"

"HYDRA doesn't have a leader at the moment. So there's no one to take command of all the little fragments that are left. They're all going to be fighting each other, not able to agree on what they should be doing. That's going to lead to infighting. It's possible that's what happened here."

"Sounds like fun."

"Well, we'll make a sweep of the building to see if there's any evidence as to who did this and then we'll head back," said Steve, a slight frostiness at the edge of his voice and not looking at Tony. He headed off into the building, Sam following.

Tony rolled his eyes. "He's mad because I brought up Barnes?"

"No, he's mad because you bring up Barnes and accuse him of this," said Natasha, gesturing around them.

"Hey, we were coming here to beat up some HYDRA too. Not the worst thing Barnes could have done. Besides, I'm letting Cap use Stark Industries resources to help look for the guy. What else does he want from me?"

"Maybe don't bring up the seventy years of killing people every time you mention him," said Clint, finally putting away his bow.

"Come on. You can't say that doesn't worry you too. The last time Steve ran into this guy, Barnes nearly killed him. Twice. I know Steve believes in sugar, spice, and puppy dog's tails, but you have to admit things could get really messy here, really fast once he does find Barnes."

"Of course it worries me," snapped Clint. "But I also know that if not for Nat I could have spent seventy years killing for Loki, so maybe a little less of your charming negativity would help Steve feel a little better about having his best friend try to kill him."

As Clint walked off, Tony turned to Natasha and grinned a little sheepishly. "And this is why you should never wake me up before ten o'clock. I'm a jerk to everyone."

She rolled her eyes but smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

Fury frowned. "And there was no evidence as to who might have been responsible for the attack?"

"None," said Steve. "We searched pretty thoroughly. I recommend sending in a forensics team though. They might be able to find something we missed."

If there was one plus about no more SHIELD, Tony thought, it was that at least Fury came to them now when he wanted to hear the rundown of a mission and they didn't have to sit in stiff conference chairs and drink nothing but water and burnt coffee.

They were in the common area of Avengers Tower, and he had a mimosa in one hand (to keep things interesting as he put it, or as interesting as they could be.) The others were treating this a bit more formerly.

"I'll send one in. But I suspect it will be the same as last time."

"Last time?" Tony sat up straighter. "You mean this has happened before?"

"Another HYDRA hideout was attacked earlier this month," said Fury, a little reluctantly.

Natasha frowned. "Who do you think is doing it?"

"I don't know. But it's someone who knows HYDRA."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Steve, glancing towards Tony. Suspected that he was expecting him to bring up Bucky again.

"Because when we released those files online, we released so many it'll take at least a decade to sort through them all. We're doing our best but someone is getting there before us because they know where to look in the files and for what. We know there has been two attacks on HYDRA bases. But I wouldn't be surprised if there weren't more we just haven't caught up to yet." Fury shook his head. "And this person might not just be going after bases. Two days ago a Hans Foerster was in a fatal car accident. Seemed his brakes malfunctioned. We can't prove that they were tampered with…but Mr. Foerster did use to work as a HYDRA interrogator."

Tony snorted dryly. "Then I suspect he got what was coming to him. As I see it, someone is doing our dirty work for us. Good luck to them."

"Only they're not fighting. They're exterminating," said Natasha, looking to Steve for support.

"I agree. No one wants HYDRA wiped off the face of the earth more than I do-" began Steve, but Tony cut him off.

"Except apparently this mystery guy. Or gal. Not making assumptions here."

"But," said Steve ignoring him and pressing on, "killing them all without any attempt at bringing them in alive isn't the right way to go about it."

"And I don't like a new player on the scene that I don't know," said Fury. He shook his head. "Romanoff, do you have any contacts you could reach out to? Find out if they've heard anything or know who might be doing this."

She nodded.

"I'll reach out to a few people as well," said Clint. "Someone might have heard something."

"Good, and you Rogers. Do you think you could talk to Sharon Carter? She does have CIA resources."

Suddenly, every single person in the room was looking at Steve with interest, and Fury was definitely the only one thinking about HYDRA. Steve shifted a little.

"Um, I guess I could talk to her."

"Asking a girl a favor like that usually requires dinner," said Natasha, amiably.

"I know a great restaurant. Italian. Very romantic. Pepper loves it," Tony added chipperly.

Tony and Natasha shared a glance which convinced Steve that the two had agreed on one thing, and that was the apparent need to set him up.

Steve couldn't help but think: _Tony and Natasha on the same side? What a horrifying thought._

Fury cleared his throat in annoyance and Tony went back to his drink.

The meeting wrapped up a few minutes later and Fury departed. Yawning and stretching, Tony stood up.

"Well boys and girls, I say it's nap time. If anyone even thinks about waking me up in the next three hours, there will darn sure be some Avenging happening and I'm the one who's going to be doing it."

He took the lift down to his floor and was soon collapsing into bed, the pillows engulfing him. He didn't even bother with the blankets. All he did was shout out: "JARVIS, windows." And drifted off as the room darkened.

Thirty minutes later he jerked awake to the sound of an alarm. He swore, groaned, and rolled over.

"JARVIS, what on earth-"

"I'm sorry sir, but you wished me to alert you-"

"I don't want to be alerted to anything right now!"

"But a sighting has been reported."

Suddenly Tony was up and awake. "Where? By whom?"

"In Macedonia. One of the Macedonian military intelligence officers you paid to keep an eye out."

Tony was out of the room and in the elevator in less than a minute. "Where's Steve?"

"His bedroom."

When Steve opened his bedroom door in answer to Tony's banging, he looked groggy and sleepy. Apparently Tony hadn't been the only one who had decided on a nap.

"Tony?" Steve sighed. "Seriously, you're the last person I expected to be waking me up right-"

"It's Bucky. I think we may have found him."


	7. Chapter 7

As Bucky crossed the square he saw him. The man was supposedly bartering with a street vendor. But Bucky had seen him on the bridge as well.

Pulling down his cap a little lower and hunching his shoulders, Bucky headed into his apartment building and climbed to the third floor. He let himself into the dingy, one room apartment and headed to the grimy window to look out. The man was still out there, still arguing with the street seller. But Bucky noticed he was standing so that he had a perfect view of the apartment building.

Who was it?

Not HYDRA. He knew that instantly. HYDRA would have known to be more subtle. HYDRA would have known he'd spot the man a mile off. No. Someone else had sent him. But who? Who else would be looking for him?

Enemies of HYDRA? Possibly. But there was a more obvious choice. Steve or whatever remained of SHIELD. Possibly both together.

Either way, if the man was outside the building, Bucky doubted he had long.

He pulled his backpack out from under the bed, checked to make sure all the journals were in it and then grabbed the handful of clothes that he had and stuffed them in on top of the notebooks.

And then he hesitated. There was an ache in his chest. Steve might be coming.

Suddenly he felt exhausted. Years of hell and even now his own brain couldn't let him rest. And he had to keep running. He wanted nothing more right now than to just sit on that bed and wait for whoever was coming. He was almost willing to gamble that if it were foe he could fight them. But something told him it wouldn't be a foe. It would be Steve. It had to be Steve. He knew it in a way he couldn't quite put into words.

But he couldn't do it. Steve didn't deserve that. Somewhere in his brain there was still the Winter Soldier. And if the journals proved nothing else, they proclaimed loud and clear that he wasn't Bucky Barnes anymore. Not really. Not the one Steve had known and was looking for.

Bucky knew it, no matter how much he might wish it weren't true. And Steve should know it.

There was only one way.

Reluctantly, because it was a piece of him and there weren't that many pieces left, Bucky opened the backpack and pulled out one of the red notebooks. He had been trying to sort the killings by decade, as best he could place them. This one had killings from the 90s. Still he opened it and flicked through, just to make sure somehow Howard Stark hadn't ended up in it. He couldn't let Steve know that.

It was a wrench to place it on the bed.

But Steve had to stop looking.

He swung the bag back onto his back and glanced out the window. His watcher was walking briskly away. That meant whoever was coming, was coming very soon.

Bucky hurried out of the room and into the hallway. Near the rear of the building, facing out into a muddy courtyard, piled with trash, that the complex shared with three other buildings, was a window. He shoved it up, climbed out and pulled himself up onto the roof above.

* * *

Five minutes later Steve burst into the small, dingy room Bucky had recently vacated and looked around, Tony and Natasha following behind.

"He should be here," said Tony, "My contact said he hasn't left the building."

"He knew he was being followed," said Natasha. "That guy downstairs couldn't follow a toddler without tipping it off."

"So we sweep the area."

"I doubt it will be any use. With his training he doesn't need long to become invisible. And he was given plenty of time."

Steve sunk down onto the bed, dejected and tired. "I really thought I would find him this time. I really thought-" Red caught his eye and he glanced down beside him. A red notebook lay next to him on the bed. He picked it up and started to read.

"What is it?" asked Natasha.

"It's…" Steve flicked through several pages, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he handed it over to Natasha.

She took in a page. And then another. "Oh."

"What?" Tony came over to read over her shoulder. After several seconds he said: "Is this what I think it is?"

"It looks that way," said Natasha. "Assignments. All completed by the Winter Soldier. We'll finally be able to close quite a few cases with this. And some of these killings were never even suspected to be anything but accidents."

"So he has a kill book and he just forgot about it when packing?"

"I don't think so," she said. "He left it here on purpose. It's a message."

"A message that he's scary stuff so back off?"

"A message to stop looking. He must have guessed it was Steve coming for him. And he thinks this will stop him." She gestured to the notebook.

Steve stood up. "Then he's wrong." He took the book. "This only gives us a reason to try harder. He's remembering things. He wants me to think there's no Bucky left. But this just proves that there is. He was always looking out for me. Trying to protect me. And that's just what he's doing now. Only this time I'm the one who's going to look out for him."


	8. Chapter 8

Rumlow adjusted his mask. It outfit was perhaps a bit dramatic, the crossbones possibly a little unnecessary, but he'd found it surprised people and put them off their guard. It bought him precious seconds that he'd used on several to gain the upper hand. And when you were taking out a entire building of HYDRA-trained individuals, you took what advantage you could get. And the mask _was_ necessary. With his face in the condition it was in, it was vital to keep it hidden. If anyone got an image of it, he doubted it be long before he was tracked down.

Now, he was studying a house. It was, for all intents and purposes, a standard suburban home. But in that house lived a man named Sokolov. Rumlow remember Sokolov. He was one of the finest interrogators that HYDRA had. He got things done.

 _"Go get Sokolov," Pierce snapped. "He can get us the information we need. I think you'll find him in his quarters."_

 _Rumlow glanced at the woman bound to the chair and nodded curtly. He turned and exited the room. He crossed the hall, acknowledging a few fellow soldiers that he knew, and took the lift down. He wished he'd be transferred back to SHIELD headquarters soon. Postings at a HYDRA base was always so much more...impossible to hide from. At least while at SHIELD, he could lose himself in the lie that he was just another SHIELD recruit. There he talked to people who had no idea that HYDRA still existed. There were always a few minutes every day there, in which he could almost believe the lie._

 _He'd been on base for nearly three months now and it was becoming excruciating. A thought flashed across his mind that he wished the Soldier would be taken out of cryo soon. Guilt quickly followed on the heels of this thought along with self-loathing. How could he wish the Solider away from the peace of his temporary oblivion? He realized that a bit of him envied the Soldier and he squashed the thought down as well. Everything the Soldier had to endure…how could he envy that?_

 _Because it was simple, his mind answered. The Solider had no choice, not even an illusion of it. While he, Rumlow, maybe he did have a choice and he'd just chosen wrong. Or maybe he didn't have a choice either. But whatever he had, it wasn't simple._

 _The elevator doors opened and he stepped out into another hallway. This one was lined with various individuals' private rooms. He round Sokolov's door and knocked._

 _"Come in," a voice called._

 _Brock entered._

 _Sokolov was seated in an armchair, watching TV, he had a wineglass in one hand. He had grey, wispy hair, and large, thick glasses that appeared to be from another decade. He didn't take his eyes off the TV screen and he had an expression of intense satisfaction and amusement on his face._

 _"Pierce wants you," said Brock. "The senator isn't giving us the codes."_

 _Sokolov nodded. "It will be my pleasure." He reached for the controller. And that's when Rumlow glanced towards the TV and froze._

 _A DVD was playing. Muted. But Rumlow could see exactly what it was. It was a recording of one of Sokolov's…interrogation sessions. There was blood everywhere. Rumlow could see bone and skin-, he looked away abruptly. There were many sights he already had that he'd never be able to get out of his head. Images that insisted on replaying in his head while he slept. This was going to be another one, wasn't it?_

 _Sokolov chuckled. It was a sickening chuckle. "You don't have to look so appalled."_

 _"Pierce wants you," repeated Rumlow firmly, looking fixedly at a point on the wall._

 _"I keep recordings of all my work. It makes for excellent entertainment."_

 _Rumlow mainlined silence._

 _"I even have a tape from when you first joined us at HYDRA. Or to be more precise, a little before you_ officially _joined us." Sokolov beamed at him. "It's on VHS but I've been meaning to transfer it to DVD, should you be interested in watching it?"_

 _"Pierce wants you," said Rumlow one last time. "I will wait for you out in the hall."_

 _And he turned on his heel and left._

As Rumlow surveyed the house, he wondered if Sokolov still kept all those tapes. If so, it would be destroyed by the end of the night. And either way, he was going to make sure that this death wasn't an easy one.

* * *

The man swirled around in his chair. He always did it when he needed to think. Sokolov was dead now too. That wasn't good.

Of course he'd known when Widow and Fury had leaked those files, that HYDRA had taken a blow. It had been a blow he doubted they would recover from. And he had considered it inevitable that many HYDRA agents and files would be rounded up by law enforcement. He had taken what steps he could to minimize the damage, but in an organization so large, and now with no clear leader, the task had been nigh on impossible. But what he had not expected was this. Report after report had reached him of compounds being attacked and HYDRA members who had appeared safely hidden only to be mysteriously found dead or in some tragic accident. And now this. Well this was clearly no accident. The beating Sokolov had received before finally dying was brutal, thorough, and clearly personal.

He continued to swirl in his chair.

Two other men stood in the room, watching him expectantly.

One of them coughed. "You don't think it's…him do you?"

"Who?' The swirl-er, stopped.

"The, err, asset?"

The man considered this. "No. I thought about that after the base in Canada was attacked but it's not his style."

"Do you think…do you think we're in danger?"

"Absolutely." The man gave a last swirl and then stopped. "Whoever is coming after us clearly is deadly and committed to wiping out what remains of us, one by one. And I would add, given that he was able to track down Sokolov, he knows our methods of evasion fairly well. We can certainly try to hide gentlemen, but I confess that I believe it would only be a matter of time. And I for one have no intention of being killed without a fight."

"What do you propose then?"

The man smiled grimly. "I propose we bring back our best weapon."

"What? You mean- you can't! He'd kill us as soon as he laid eyes on us."

"Not if we had the right words to uh…persuade him."

There was a pause. "How would we find him?"

"You forget, _HYDRA_ trained him. We taught him everything he knows about how to hide and disappear. We know what he knows. And we shall use that knowledge to find him."


	9. Chapter 9

Something had been bothering Bucky since early that morning when he'd gone out for food. He wasn't sure what it was. He couldn't put it into words. Neither had he seen anything that he could say with absolute certainty was wrong. It wasn't like the last time. There wasn't some man that shouldn't be there. It was vaguer than that. It was just a feeling. A feeling that there was something there, just out of sight, something dreadfully wrong, something dangerous.

At first he thought it was just paranoia. He'd had another nightmare last night. That sometimes left him feeling on edge. But it didn't abate as it usually did; it just grew as the day progressed.

By the afternoon, he decided. Whatever it was, even if it was only his imagination, he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

He headed back to the motel. Some instinct told him he should just run now and not go back. But he'd left his backpack there along with the notebooks. And he wouldn't, he couldn't, leave without it. Losing another piece of himself wasn't an option.

The motel was a seedy, rundown one. At night, it was loud, with noises from blaring TVs and loud arguments, seeping in through the paper-thin walls. But it was cheap, out of the way, and obscure.

Bucky jogged up the outdoor steps to the second floor and hurried to his room. As he put the key in the lock and turned it, he already knew that he had made a horrible, terrible mistake. He should never have come back.

Maybe he heard something, maybe he only sensed it, but whatever it was he knew instantly he wasn't alone. He shoved his shoulder against the door hard, knocking back whoever had been standing behind it.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw someone else coming at him from the left. He grabbed the man by the wrist and twisted. There was an ugly snap and a needle dropped from the man's hand.

Then something hit Bucky from behind. If he hadn't moved just a fraction, it would have knocked him out. As it was he stumbled into the room, his ears ringing. He forced himself to dodge, knowing that another attack would follow the first one closely. He was right. A Taser swung down, right where he had been standing a split second before. He grabbed at the wrist holding it, kicking out behind him as movement caught his attention. Someone else was attacking from the other side.

As Bucky pulled the one man towards him and punched, he shot a look around the room. A jolt of dread ran through him. There were at least ten men in the room, and several of them were closing on the door, blocking off the only escape route.

He ducked under another Taser and rolled towards the doorway but someone tackled him to the ground. Several, vicious, quick punches knocked the man off of him and Bucky flipped to his feet but already two more men were on him. He whirled, kicked, grabbed and slammed one against the other.

 _"Longing."_ A cool, clear voice spoke. It was loud, but not shouting. There was command in the voice, authority.

As the word reached him, Bucky stumbled from shock. He lost concentration and a fist thudded into his jaw. Pain shot through his head and he could taste blood, but he shook it off. He needed to stop it. He knew, instantly, what was happening. It was engrained so deep within him, its thorns latched on so tightly, that he couldn't separate it from the rest of him.

 _"Rusted."_

Another punch sent Bucky staggering. But he stopped a third, flipping his attacker onto the floor.

Bucky pushed himself off one of the walls, using the momentum to avoid two men and buying himself time to look around the room desperately. The man speaking was in the far corner, surrounded by three more men. Could he get to him in time? Could he fight his way through?

 _"Furnace."_

The word burnt in his mind. Pain, fire, agony. Memories, threats, nightmares. Everything was blurring. He couldn't go back. He couldn't lose control again. He couldn't become nothing once more.

A jolt of searing pain ran through him as a Taser met his back. He fell to his knees.

 _"Daybreak."_

No! He screamed in frustration, in terror, in rage, in exertion, and kicked backwards, knocking his attacker off his feet, but another man had jumped forward and was now holding him around the throat, trying to push him to the ground.

He was at a severe disadvantage. His attackers only had to keep him down for a few more words. Time was on their side as were the numbers.

 _"Seventeen."_

But it wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't let it happen. Not again.

He used all the momentum he could muster to jerk forward, pulling the man over and to the floor. Then, in less than a split second, he reached out and snapped the man's neck.

Not matter what it took; he was going to get out of here which his mind his own.

 _"Benign."_

He jumped to his feet.

 _"Nine."_

He looked around desperately. Sometime during the attack, someone had thought to slam the door and lock it. He'd never make it through there.

Another man lunged forward and Bucky dodged, throwing his own punch directly at the man's throat. The would-be attacker fell to the ground, making ugly, gurgling noises.

 _"Homecoming."_

 _No! No! No!_

He knew he was running out of time. He could feel it. That ugly, dirty thing inside him, twisting tighter and tighter, making it harder and harder to breakaway.

Bucky parried another blow and grabbed the man who'd tried it. With all the strength he had, he lifted him up and threw him through the window.

 _"One."_

No!

Bucky didn't think. He didn't hesitate. He just threw himself through the shattered window. Shards of glass caught on his skin, cutting deep. He banged against the railing outside, caught it, and then leapt over to the hard concrete below. Blood ran down from a deep gash above his eye and his body ached as he burst into a run. But that didn't matter. All that matted was that when the final word was spoken, he wasn't there to hear it.


	10. Chapter 10

The train rumbled through the countryside, scenery flying past the windows. Several seats down, college students were excitedly chatting about their trip to the lake, but for the most part the only noise came from the train itself.

Bucky's hands were shaking. He had boarded the first train leaving the station and had patched himself up in the bathroom. The bleeding from his cuts had stopped and he was pretty certain nothing had broken from his jump. He'd had worse injuries than this and not blinked. And yet he couldn't keep his hands still.

He'd come so close to losing control. To becoming the Winter Soldier again. One word away. That's how close it had been. Just one word. And the thought of it caused a wave of overwhelming panic to claw up him.

No matter what, he couldn't go back to that.

He closed his eyes, trying to keep control, trying to retain some semblance of himself…

So close. So close back to that hell.

He reached out instinctively for his backpack, some piece of himself to hold onto, and then let his hand fall, his brain catching up to his instincts, reminding him that he'd lost that.

It felt like it had back when he'd first gone on the run: lost in an ocean of fear, darkness, and pain. Over the past months he had bit by bit been creating a raft for himself, something to cling too, and now that had been swept out from under him.

All he could focus on was how close that had been. And next time…next time he was sure he would lose. And there would be a next time. There was no doubt in his mind that that had been HYDRA. And that they would find him again. They always found him. He could fall off a train into a freezing river below, and they still found him. There was no escape.

Except…

His eyes became glued to the train tracks they were speeding past.

It wasn't the first time he'd thought about it. Since pulling Steve out of the water, he had contemplated it over and over again. It could be over so quickly and then no more fear. No more pain. No more nightmares. No more remembering.

And now he could add to that list: no more hearing those words ever again.

His fist clenched. Those words.

But…and this was the problem. This was what had held him back each time before now. And this was what would he knew would hold him back now.

Deep down, buried under everything else that had been put into him, Bucky Barnes was still there. And Bucky Barnes didn't give up or take a way out. Bucky Barnes fought. He had fought every step of the way when he had been taken, and twisted, and turned. He'd made it so much harder than he'd had too. He'd been told that again and again, that it was inevitable and that he was only making it harder for himself. And he'd known even then that they were right.

He had been told of Steve's death. They'd enjoyed telling him that. And even if Steve had lived, he would have been sure Bucky was dead. Everyone was sure Bucky was dead. He'd known there was no escape. But he wouldn't give in and make it easy for them.

It had been horrifying to know what was going to happen to him, information which Dr. Zola had loved imparting. To bit by bit lose control, to feel it happening, to know that eventually he wouldn't even care. To know the inevitable, appalling, end that he could not escape. The black notebook had been filled with memories from that time. Even given everything else he had endured, this had been the worst parts of his life.

But he had fought them, inch by inch, every step of the way…until eventually the Winter Soldier had taken over, and the battle had been lost.

So he was a fighter to the bitter end. And he would fight now. And suddenly it felt just like it did all those years ago. That he was fighting an unwinnable battle. And he wanted to scream. He wanted to break this train apart. He wanted to rage.

 _I'm with you till the end of the line._

The words jumped into his head out of nowhere.

His words. Steve's words.

And he realized that there was another way out. The battle didn't have to be unwinnable if he had Steve there fighting it with him.

He'd rejected the idea of going to Steve before, arguing to himself that Steve didn't deserve it, but also too ashamed to do so. And perhaps now, having read one of the notebooks, Steve wouldn't want to help.

But Bucky had run, and run right into HYDRA.

And now it wasn't a question of what Steve did or did not deserve. It wasn't an option anymore. It was the only way.

Bucky realized that his hands were no longer shaking.

* * *

The man swirled in his chair. Someone else was standing to the side nervously. Waiting to see how he would take the news.

So the asset had escaped. But they'd come close. So close. Would they be able to find him again? Probably. But it would be harder the next time. Yet they wouldn't fail again to take control.

But did they have the time? Just that morning a call had come through of another former HYDRA member found dead.

"Nicholai?"

The man stopped swirling in his chair and raised an eyebrow at the speaker. "Yes?"

"We did recover this." A backpack was deposited on the table and shoved towards him. "It appears to belong to the asset."

Curious, Nicholai opened the backpack. He pulled out a stack of notebooks and flicked open a red one. He read down the page and then his eyebrows lifted. "It seems our Soldier is remembering." He turned another page and then looked at the stack of notebooks. "Quite a lot it would seem."

"What should we do? Keep looking for him? He can't have gotten far."

"Oh I'm sure he has. But we might as well put the wheels in motion. But in the meantime…I think I have some reading to do."

* * *

The phone was ringing. Sleepily, Steve rolled over and looked at the time. Three in the morning. Really? Who had to call him at three, the morning after he'd finally agreed to let Tony take him and Bruce out for a night on the town? Hangovers were impossible for him, but he could still be exhausted.

Yawning, he reached for the phone.

"Rogers speaking."

"Steve…this is Bucky."


	11. Chapter 11

_AN: Sorry, not a very long update today. This is really more one half of the chapter. But it's been a busy week, and I have yet to write the second half but felt I should post something soon._

* * *

It was a large open park in New York. Bucky had picked it. Steve hadn't needed to ask Bucky how he'd get there. If the past months of searching for him had taught Steve anything, it was that Bucky always found a way.

As Steve sat on the bench and looked around, he recognized why Bucky had chosen it. It would be hard for anyone to surprise you in the square but at the same time if you needed to get away quickly; there were plenty of easy outs. Even as his brain registered all this, his heart hurt. Here they were, back in New York, and so much had changed. They'd each lost so much. He believed in Bucky with every fiber of his being. He would do anything to protect his friend, help him save him. But suddenly Steve felt his age.

"You're early."

He looked up and saw Natasha standing over him. He smiled.

"Thanks for coming."

"Of course." She sat down beside him. "So, how's this going down?"

Steve sighed. "Sharon should be here soon."

"Oh really?" Natasha smiled at him. He gave her a look.

"Bucky was very firm. He didn't want it to just be me. I offered to keep it secret. I told him no one else had to know. But he said he wanted to come in. He said, well, he said he was dangerous. I think he wanted to protect me."

"That must have cost him a lot. I imagine he doesn't trust any government agency."

"Can you blame him?"

"No. So him insisting you do this with the government, well it must have been a hard decision. Which tells me two things."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"The first is that he must have a good reason for saying he's dangerous."

"And the second?"

"That he cares about you a great deal."

Steve looked off into the distance. "He always wanted to protect me. You know before I became Captain America, there weren't a lot of people who had my back. But Bucky, he was always there for me. He always fought for me when I didn't have enough sense to stay out of trouble. But now it's my turn to look out for him."

"And you will. I know SHIELD let you down-"

"SHIELD let us all down," he said seriously, looking at her with concern.

"But Fury is working closely with Sharon's division of the CIA. And we will be there every step of the process to make sure that Bucky is helped. I will be there. And I promise you Steve, in this matter you have my absolute loyalty. It's going to be okay. You will look after him. He's lucky to have you as a friend."

Across the park, Steve spotted Sharon. He waved and she waved back.

"And," Natasha added, watching Sharon approach them, "she's looking quite pretty today." He frowned at her. "What? You have to admit those heels have no practical purpose on this mission. She's totally just wearing them because you're here."

* * *

Bucky had gone to war. He had faced down enemy fire. He had endured things no one should even have to imagine. And yet the prospect of meeting Steve face-to-face cowered him.

He was perched on a rooftop, a couple of blocks away from the park, binoculars trained on Steve. The Black Widow was with him. He knew her on sight. It had been important for the Winter Soldier to be trained in all well-known agents he might be likely to meet out in the field. Of course she had also been there hadn't she? Fighting on the bridge…and then there was that previous time. It was only a vague shadow stirring in the back of his memory, but he knew he wasn't looking forward to speaking with her. His instincts marked her as a threat and he wished she wasn't there. But he was the one who'd insisted to Steve that they not meet alone. Steve had a right to pick who he trusted.

The blonde woman he didn't know. Probably a member of whatever government agency Steve had decided to call upon.

It had been hard to make that demand. When Steve said that it could all stay between just the two of them if that was what Bucky wanted, it had been so tempting to say yes, let it just be the two of us again, let's pretend nothing ever happened, we'll meet at a bar in Brooklyn and just…talk. But that wasn't an option.

As long as those words were still in him, Steve would be in danger. Bucky couldn't keep it just the two of them. He needed those words taken out of him.

 _But…_

Every fiber of his being panicked at the thought of putting himself in the power of any agency, even with Steve at his side.


	12. Chapter 12

_AN: I've only seen Civil War once, so had forgotten that Kate's real name is actually Sharon. So I went back and changed the name in the last chapter and it's now Sharon in this one :-)_

* * *

Steve saw him first, walking across the park, hat pulled low over his head, hands in his pocket. He seemed to be trying to make himself look as small as possible. Steve took a step forward.

Sharon moved to go with him but Natasha held out a hand and stopped her.

The two men reached one another and halted.

Studying him, it was impossible for Natasha to read Bucky's expression. Wary perhaps, and on edge, but there was something else there too. Was there a flicker of relief?

"Bucky." Steve spoke first. While she wasn't sure about Bucky, the relief in Steve's voice was so evident it made her smile, and Natasha didn't blame him. She had half expected Bucky not too show up.

"Steve."

Steve beamed. "You remember me."

"Yes."

"How much do you remember?"

There was a pause. "Some."

"I'm glad you remember," said Steve honestly. "Because you'll know then that I mean it when I promise that I am going to help you. I'm so glad you called." He noticed that Bucky's eyes were darting left and right, taking in the entire park. "You're safe."

Bucky made a noise, that might have been wry laugh but it was too short to tell. And Steve ached. It felt like there was a hard unyielding wall between them. Of course it couldn't be the same as it had been. But did it have to feel so hard? He wanted to hug Bucky, or clap him on the shoulder. He wanted to see Bucky smile. He wanted to hear him say more than one word. He wanted…, he just wanted Bucky back again. He gestured behind him.

"That's Sharon back there. She's with the CIA. They have a division, a lot of people I know, good people, ex-SHILED, real SHIELD, not the part that was HYDRA, went over there after the organization fell apart."

Suddenly Bucky looked on the verge of running. Steve couldn't say what exactly it was that tipped him off, maybe it was the way Bucky shifted his weight, or the set of his shoulders, but he knew instantly that he was about to lose him.

"We don't have to go with her," said Steve hastily. "You and me, we can leave this park together right now and we never have to come back." He reached out. Bucky watched him intently, but didn't move away as Steve placed his hand on his shoulder. "I'm not letting you go again Bucky. Not without me. If you remember anything, you remember that you're my best friend. And I have lost you so many times over already that I don't think I could bear to lose you once more."

Bucky closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I am still the Winter Solider."

"No. You're Bucky Barnes. You are a hero and nothing HYDRA ever did to you can take that away."

"You don't understand. I can still become…the Soldier again. The programming is still all there and I can't fight it. Not if HYDRA gets to me, and they're trying."

"HYDRA is dying."

"They found me in Dublin last week. It's why I called you. I can't go back to the Solider. I just can't."

"It's not going to happen."

"It could. I need it taken out of me. If that's possible. Do you think these people can help me?"

"Yes. Their resources are very good. And if they can't we'll find better ones. I'm not going to let you down again."

"And do you trust them? I need to know…how far do you trust her?" He nodded in Sharon's direction.

Steve didn't pause. "All the way."

"Alright then." Bucky took a deep breath. "Then let's do this. Before I change my mind."

Together, the two men walked towards Natasha and Sharon.

* * *

Nicholai finished the last page of the notebook and smiled. It seemed that he had inadvertently saved the best for last. Well, well, well. Who would have thought…it was all quite interesting.

Of course all the notebooks had been an entertaining read. Perhaps the ones full of pre-war memories less so, but the others…he hadn't known about half those missions. Suddenly, several political upheavals in the last decades made so much more sense.

But this last notebook…

He ran a finger over the green cover. Could it be used?

Nicholai turned to his computer and started searching. It took some digging, but eventually he found the list of casualties. Scrolling down, the name he was searching for did not appear.

Very well. So far, so good. Now to search through the names of those missing but presumed dead.

Ah. Yes, there was the name. So he had probably died. And yet...missing. Certainly any HYDRA agent at SHIELD who had survived would have had the good sense to run for it while they could?

It was at least an avenue worth exploring.

He pulled out his cellphone and dialed.

"Hello, Jon? It's Nicholai. I need some information, do whatever it takes to get it. I want you look into the official reports on the Project Insight incident. I want you to find any and all mentions of Brock Rumlow and what might have happened to him, paying particular note of last sighting."

He hung up and flicked through the pages of the notebook. Yes. Definitely there was a possibility here…


	13. Chapter 13

Every muscle in Bucky's body was tense. Just sitting next to him, Steve could feel it and could feel his own nerves start to tense up as a result.

They were sitting in a large, conference room but it was just the two of them, Sharon, and Natasha. Outside in the rest of the building were doctors, physiatrists, and scientists; everything Bucky might need to help put him back together. But Steve felt keeping Bucky in the building was not exactly going to be a given. Still, if Bucky decided to run, he was going to help him. Technically the CIA shouldn't stop him. When Steve made the deal with them through Sharon, he made it clear that Bucky was not to be a prisoner. But if his experience with SHIELD had taught him anything, it was that you never could tell, and there had certainly been some people less than thrilled by the idea of Bucky wandering around free. That's why he had insisted on Natasha being here. In private, she'd agreed to be on his side in this, no matter how far they had to go.

"What do you mean they can trigger you?" asked Sharon. She was trying to keep the atmosphere light and calm, but it was hard when Bucky looked ready to go off at the slightest wrong turn.

Bucky's jaw worked. "The programming can be …brought back online. They could, turn me back into-" He hesitated, trying to figure out how to phrase it. Back into the Winter Soldier? But in a way he still was the Soldier no matter how much he might wish otherwise. "HYDRA can take back control."

"How?"

He jerked a little, as if he'd started to jump up from his seat but forced himself back down.

"Bucky," said Sharon seriously, "I'm not going to hurt you. No one here is. This division is working closely with Nick Fury and if we tried anything on you, you can bet he'd fight us and win. But we want to help you. You came to Steve because you don't want to give control back to HYDRA, right?"

Bucky gave a short nod.

"And you are at the right place. Our resources are some of the best and we will use all of them to help you. But we're not going to make progress if we don't have the information. We can't take out programming when we don't know what it is."

Logically, he knew that was true. But to hand over that power to someone else, the ability to take control of him… What she was asking was obvious but he wasn't sure it was possible. With all he'd seen he had learned one hard lesson, trust no one. Because everyone was the devil.

Except a few and far between. Steve, Brock… He jerked slightly. Why on earth had that name jumped into his head? Brock Rumlow had been just another HYDRA agent, he told himself, part of the organization that had turned Bucky into what he was.

"Maybe give him time?" said Steve quietly. Sharon and Bucky looked at him. "He doesn't know you or anyone else here. Give him time to adjust, see what you can do for him without asking about the programming, and with a little time maybe he'll be willing to trust you with it?"

Sharon smiled. "Of course we can do that, if that's what Bucky needs." She looked back at Bucky. "I don't want to force you to do anything that you're not comfortable with. This is about helping you. And I think there is good we could do for you even without disabling the programming. But I want you to know that you _can_ trust me." There was a pause. "Steve introduced me as Sharon, but I don't think he said my last name. It's Carter. I'm Sharon Carter. Peggy Carter's niece."

Bucky blinked. "Peggy?" It was a name from another lifetime, another world. "Is she-, is she still alive?"

"Unfortunately she died recently."

"I'm sorry," said Bucky, but directing it at Steve.

Steve smiled a little. "I got to see her again, I was lucky. And she lived a long, rich life."

Bucky snorted. "Well we at least have one of those things in common with her."

"I don't tell a lot of people that we're related because talk about raising expectations," continued Sharon. "The founder of SHIELD, its lot to live up to. But I got my values, my passion, and my drive from her. Deep down, Peggy Carter has always been my ideal. And I'm not going to let her down. Not when it comes to helping you and Steve. She used to tell me stories about the two of you. And there is no situation, no set of circumstances, in which I betray her memory and her trust, by betraying either of you."

Bucky stared at her for a long, steady minute and then nodded. "There are words. A list of phrases. If I hear them, in the right order, I go under."

"Will you trust me with them?"

Another pause, and then Bucky nodded.

* * *

"Here," Steve said, leading the way into a rather small room, but he'd done what he could to make sure it would be comfortable. "It's not fantastic, but this place wasn't built to sleep people so, it's the best we could do on short notice."

"It's a lot nicer than anything I've had in about…oh, seven decades," said Bucky, sitting down on the bed with a heavy sigh.

"I'm really glad you called Bucky." Bucky looked up at him. "I've been looking for you."

"I know."

Steve sat down beside him. "When you left that notebook in Macedonia, that was meant to stop me wasn't it?"

"Yeah it was."

"It didn't," said Steve firmly. "I need you to know that I don't care about what you've done. Because I know it wasn't your fault."

"But then you don't know the worst of it," said Bucky, looking off into the distance.

"And it won't matter when I do. None of it was your fault."

There was a long, heavy pause and then abruptly Bucky laughed, it was bitter, tired laugh. "We've come a long way from Brooklyn, haven't we?" But then he flashed Steve a smile, and somewhere in there Steve caught a wisp of the old Bucky and Steve beamed back at him.


	14. Chapter 14

Steve woke up some time around three in the morning and, eventually having to reluctantly acknowledge that he wasn't falling back asleep, he grabbed his gym bag and headed out. Of course there was a gym installed in the tower, but he took his motorcycle and drove the forty-five minutes to the CIA complex where Bucky was staying. He wanted to spend as much time around it as possible, mostly for his own peace of mind. He was not going to leave Bucky there and wash his hands of it. He wanted to keep an eye on things and be ready to act should Sharon's trust in these people prove misplaced.

When he entered the gym, he was startled to see that it was not empty. Bucky was there, running on the treadmill. As soon as he heard the door open, Bucky slammed the off button and whirled around, but the tension went out of his shoulders as soon as he saw Steve. That at least was a good sign.

"Couldn't sleep?" asked Steve, dropping his bag on a bench along the wall.

"A couple of hours," said Bucky, shrugging.

Steve smiled wryly. "Me too. I guess we've both slept enough for a couple of lifetimes."

Bucky blinked and then nodded. "Yeah. I guess we have…I'm sorry."

"What about?"

"I know what happened to you. The crash…the ice…"

"Oh. Yeah. I guess we've both missed out on a lot, huh?" Steve approached the punching bag and gave it a whack.

Bucky turned on the machine and started running again. "Do you ever…just out of nowhere feel that cold again?"

Steve punched the bag. Hard. "Sometimes. I can be sweltering in the heat and suddenly, I feel it."

"In your bones."

The thud of fist on bag melded into the thud of Bucky's feet.

"You know," said Steve, between swings. "I don't actually remember being out, but at the same time, when I try, I almost think I can remember it. Freezing for what felt like an eternity."

"And sometimes you wonder why you try? But you do anyways."

They continued on for several minutes in silence.

"I know there are a lot of advancements now," said Steve after a while. "The things science has done, not to mention the level of social progress. But still. There are times I can't help but feel we lost a lot too. I don't mean the personal things. I mean-"

"I know," said Bucky. "I guess you can't have progress without loss, order without pain-" He tripped, but recovered himself. He knew that was a favorite axiom of HYDRA's and he hated himself for having just said it. It seemed he couldn't get them out of his head on several levels. He glanced at Steve, worried what he'd say, but if Steve had noticed anything he didn't say it.

"It was a simpler time," Steve was saying. "Which is crazy because we were in the middle of a world war."

"At least we won that fight," said Bucky, "because it sure feels like we lost a lot of them."

Steve sped up his punches, Bucky ran faster.

Suddenly Steve chuckled. "Do you remember Mr. Riley?"

Bucky jogged on in silence for a few moments, straining his memory. The name faintly ringed a bell…suddenly it hit. "From the drug store?"

"Yes. Always talking about how much better things were in his day. Seems to me Buck, you and are starting to sound like old men."

"Well, we are getting on in years."

"And looking pretty good for our age, if I say so myself."

Bucky chuckled. "Sharon clearly thinks so."

Steve missed his mark and swung into nothing. "What?" He turned to look at Bucky.

"Oh come on. I may have been focused on other issues, but you'd have to blind not to see the looks she keeps shooting at you."

"You haven't been conferring with Natasha have you?"

There was a pause as Bucky tried to figure out who he was referring to. " _Romanoff_? No!"

"Just wondered. She's been trying to set me up for a while now."

Bucky laughed out loud. It was the first true, real, completely good-natured laugh that Steve had heard from him since the war and it made him grin to hear.

"I'm sorry," said Bucky, "but the idea of the Black Widow taking an interest in your love life is just hilarious."

"I'm surprised she hasn't tried to enlist your help yet. She probably will though."

Bucky's laughter died. "I doubt I'd be her first choice."

Steve started hitting the bag again. "She told me about you shooting her. She understands it wasn't you."

Bucky was silent. Nothing was said for another couple of minutes.

"Have…have they started yet?" asked Steve. "Working with you? Trying to help you? I know it's only been two days."

Bucky shrugged, turning up the speed on the treadmill. "Your Sharon," he smiled a little slyly at Steve, "and a couple of others have decided it's be best to wait on the deprogramming until I've had some sessions with their therapists."

"That's probably a good idea."

Bucky snorted dryly. "I'm far past the point where it's going to do any good."

"You don't know that."

"Steve, what I have on my hands, no amount of talking is ever going to wipe clean."

"It wasn't-"

"Don't say it wasn't me!" snapped Bucky. "I remember it Steve. I remember pulling the triggers, snapping the necks, strangling them. I remember the looks in their eyes, and I know it was me. I get it Steve. I do. You want to save me. But you can't. I didn't come to you to be saved, because it's just not possible. I came to you because I want HYDRA out. I _need_ HYDRA out. And as long they still have the power to control me, I'm still a risk. I can't change the past but I sure as hell can change the future." He slammed down on the speed button, and ran even faster, signaling the end of the conversation. Steve hit the bag harder, and the two continued in silence for another hour.


	15. Chapter 15

The next week, Steve continued spending most of the day at the CIA complex. He and Bucky fell into a routine of meeting up at the gym, early in the morning, but they didn't talk much. Steve was struggling. At times Bucky would seem to drop his guard. He'd smile or say something, and Steve could see his friend again. But it seemed that the majority of the time Bucky was on his guard, tense and wary even around him. And on top of that, Steve kept going over and over again the things Bucky had said to him. Perhaps it was good that Bucky was talking to professionals, even if from what Steve could gather Bucky was being resistant to it. Steve knew, he knew with every fiber of his being, that what Bucky had done wasn't his fault. But it seemed no matter how much he knew it to be true, he couldn't convince Bucky of it.

He'd tried. Just once. And Bucky had left the room. He hadn't tried again.

* * *

Tired, and a little disheartened, Steve entered the common area of Avengers tower and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. Sure, he might as well drink water for all the effect it would have on him, but it least he could pretend.

"Hey." Tony was sitting in an armchair, glass of whiskey in one hand, tablet in the other.

"Hey." Steve sunk down on the couch and sighed.

"Everything okay?"

"Yep."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"All right, maybe not. But it'll be fine."

Tony nodded. "So this is about Barnes, huh?"

"Tony," said Steve, sighing, "I'm really not in the mood for this, okay?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Come on, I don't _always_ say the wrong thing. Just most of the time. And today I'm feeling particularly full of goodwill as Pepper and I have finally set a date. So expect Bruce levels of understanding."

Steve chuckled in spite of himself. "Bruce levels? That's a tall order."

"And one I am confident I shall surpass, I'm in that good of a mood."

"Well thank you. I appreciate it. I really do. But honestly I'm just tired and…" He rubbed his face. "I don't know what to do. You know I still worry all the time that Bucky's going to make a run for it again. And once they get the HYDRA programming out of him? I'm almost sure he'll disappear."

"You don't know that. Look that programming probably isn't going to be easy to get out. It's going to take time. Which means you have that time to talk him into changing his mind."

"I don't know how I'm going to do that though."

"Well, I don't know Barnes, but knowing your self-sacrificing martyr shtick, he's probably as obsessed with what's best for everyone else, and thinking of himself last, as you are." Tony blinked. "Darn it. That was not Bruce levels of understanding, was it?"

In spite of himself, Steve actually laughed. "No. Not so much."

"But if you convince him that he'll do more damage by leaving than staying, you've got him!"

Steve frowned. "I don't know, that doesn't sound right."

"And to do that," continued Tony, ignoring him, " you've got to get him out of his own head and stop judging everything on a 'am I going to get everyone killed' kind of level. Make him think on more normal terms. Make him be more normal."

"It's a little hard to feel normal when you're out of time."

"Well it's certainly hard if he spends all his time cooped up with the CIA and spends every single day being reminded of how different he is."

"What are you saying?"

"You're the one that insisted before handing Bucky over to them that he wouldn't be a prisoner and would be allowed to leave if he wanted to. So hold them at their word. There's plenty of room here. Let Bucky come and stay. He can commute. They're not even working on the deprogramming yet. If he gets unstable he can move back. But for now, there's absolutely no reason he has to be spending nights there."

"I don't know," said Steve. "The only reason he came in in the first place was to keep other people safe. He might consider moving here to be putting all of us at risk."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Explain to him we have a hulk. Plus JARVIS is the best security system in the world. No one is going to get to Bucky inside Avengers tower. And if he spends time with people, feels comfortable around us, and actually starts to socialize like a normal human being again, I bet when the time comes he won't be so eager to make a run for it."

Steve looked at him, impressed. "You have a point."

"Of course I have a point. Genius, remember? What's more if you like, I'll even help you pitch it to him. After all no one can talk up JARVIS's security features better than I can."

Steve grinned. "It's a deal."


	16. Chapter 16

Steve entered the gym. Bucky looked up from the punching bag and actually smiled.

"You're late today."

Steve chuckled. "Yeah. I came over with a friend whose interpretation of first thing in the morning is 'we'll start to think about leaving around ten'."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "A friend?"

"Yep. We wanted to talk to you about something."

Bucky pointedly looked to both sides of Steve. "Er, we?"

Steve chuckled. "He's coming. Sharon's signing him in as a guest. But I wanted to catch you here."

Bucky began to look a little concerned. "And you wanted to talk to me about what exactly?"

"Well, I want to you to hear me out on this before you automatically reject the idea."

"This is promising start."

Steve ignored the comment. "If I could guarantee your safety, and the safety of everyone else, what would you say about moving out of this compound and to someplace a bit more comfortable?"

"No."

"I asked you to hear me out."

Bucky sighed. "Fine. But the answer is still going to be no."

"It would be safe. There would be no chance of HYDRA getting to you there and there are the best security measures. You would be completely, one hundred percent secure. But it wouldn't be a CIA compound. It would be comfortable. It would be normal. And you could come here every day and if at some point the deprogramming makes things more unpredictable, you could still stay here some."

"I doubt the CIA would like me leaving here."

Steve folded his arms. "And if they try to stop you, I'll have something to say about that," he said grimly. "I made it clear to them that you weren't going to be their prisoner."

"You can't take on the CIA, Steve."

"Can't I? I've taken on HYDRA and SHIELD. I think I can deal with the CIA."

"You can't fight the whole world."

"Bucky, when are you going to get it? I'll fight whoever I have to, to protect you." He raised a hand as Bucky opened his mouth to argue. "I know. I heard you. You think I can't save you. And you're right. I can't. Because I can't go back to that train and keep you from falling. I can't go back to the war, and warn the both of us that we were going to lose seventy years. I can't go back and fight for the lives that we deserved, the ones that we were meant to live, the ones that were stolen from us. I can't save you. But I can go forward with you. Until the end of the line, together right? I meant that Bucky. And I always thought you did too."

"Of course I meant it."

"Then will you stop running away from me?"

"You don't understand."

"Maybe not. I read that notebook you left. I can't even imagine what you've been through. But if you keep pushing, I'm never going to get to understand."

"I'm not sure that I want you to," said Bucky honestly.

Steve sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Please Bucky." There was a long silence. "Don't we even have a right for something normal?"

Bucky laughed. "Normal? Wow. I mean even in the war you were a serum filled super soldier. We have to go a long ways back to reach normal."

Steve chuckled. "Okay. Fair point. But please, at least give…me a chance to have my best friend back? Please. Come and stay with us."

Another pause and then Bucky sighed. "Maybe. If you can actually convince me that it would be safe for everyone else."

"Of course!" said Steve eagerly. He turned at the sound of the gym door opening. "And just in time, here's the man that can do that. Tony, we need you to go on about JARVIS for a bit and how secure the tower is."

"JARVIS is one of my favorite topics so should be easy" said Tony.

"Tony, this is Bucky. Bucky, let me introduce you to Tony Stark. Howard Stark's son."

Tony rolled his eyes. "I'll forgive you for that introduction this one time, but I'd better not ever hear it again. Hey Barnes. Good to finally meet you. I've had to hear about you nonstop from Steve."

Steve frowned as he watched Bucky's face. He didn't understand. A split-second ago, Bucky was looking comfortable and relaxed, but for some reason he looked more tense and on edge than Steve had seen him since the park meeting. What was wrong?

Bucky nodded curtly at Tony.

"So, Avengers Tower," said Tony, clapping his hands together, "I've designed the security system myself. No one is getting past JARVIS, plus we have a Hulk. Took down a Norse god last year, I think it can manage the Winter Solider."

"No," said Bucky bluntly.

"He did. I have the security camera footage of it if you want to watch it. And you absolutely do want to watch it. It's hilarious. I've considered submitting it to America's Funniest Home Videos."

"I'm not moving into Avenger's Tower," said Bucky flatly.

Steve frowned. "But you said-"

"I've changed my mind. I'm staying here."

Tony frowned. "All the Avengers are living there; I mean it's even safer than this place to be honest."

"I said no. And I'm done having this conversation." Bucky turned away and starting hitting the punching bag.

"Bucky?" asked Steve tentatively. "Bucky?" Bucky didn't turn around.

Reluctantly, Steve left the gym and Tony followed. Once out of earshot, Steve shook his head and said, "I don't understand it. He was on the verge of agreeing and then you walked in."

"Gee, makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. And not that my charming personality hasn't rubbed people the wrong way in the past," said Tony raising an eyebrow, "but usually I at least have an inkling as to why. I even made a mental note to be on my best behavior."

"I don't understand either."

* * *

Bucky hit the bag again and again, harder and harder, the scene playing out over and over again in his head. Driving the car off the road, walking up to the man, pulling him up. Their eyes had met and Howard had known him. He could feel it: punching Howard's face in and then walking calmly, determinedly around the car, putting his hand around the woman's throat…she had struggled.

And that had been their son. Offering him kindness, offering him a place to stay… Steve's friend…just like Howard had been.

Steve was wrong. He didn't deserve anything normal. He didn't deserve anything at all.

* * *

 _AN: I haven't forgotten about Brock! Next chapter will be a Brock chapter :-)_


	17. Chapter 17

Brock stumbled a little as he entered his apartment and winced. His side was throbbing and he thought that his shoulder had begun to bleed again.

In the early hours of yesterday morning, his most recent strike against HYDRA had gone…somewhat awry. In the end, he'd been successful, but it had been a close thing.

It was a small base of maybe ten or so people. He had actually expected to find it deserted when he arrived. More and more of the bases were, between governments making headway on all the released files and Brock's own cleanup of HYDRA, the remnants of the organization were dispersing more and more. Hunting them down one on one was rapidly becoming the only way for him to take them out. But not apparently this base. This base had hunkered down for a fight. And they had given him quite a tough one at that.

He pulled out a first aid kit and started tending to the shoulder wound. A bullet had grazed him. He was lucky. It could have bene worse. It had surprised him and he'd been stupid. After that, he'd been more careful, more vicious. And in the end, every single HYDRA agent was dead.

After the shoulder, he lifted his shirt. A large, nasty dark bruise was spreading along one side but at least he didn't think anything was broken. Blood was on his hands from the shoulder wound however.

He stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the faucet, scrubbing his own blood off his hands. He stared as the red water circled the drain and disappeared, a memory jogged by the sight.

 _His hands wanted to shake but he forced himself to keep calm. He wasn't going to break. Not now. Not ever. He'd done too much already to survive. If he fell apart now, well, all that would have been for nothing._

 _Mechanically he went through the motions of overseeing the gear being packed up, wiping the scene of evidence, and snapping out last minute orders. The jet wouldn't be there to pick them up till the morning, so several seedy motel rooms near the airstrip were booked. No one would be looking for them…the bodies wouldn't be found for several days. Not that anyone would think to suspect HYDRA for the atrocity. England police would probably start looking for some new serial killer in the area. It was that much of a bloodbath. What had been done to those people…_

 _Brock pushed the thought back. It had been orders._

 _Orders which had had had to follow._

 _The orders shouldn't have been so…gruesome._

 _But they had been. Because someone in HYDRA's higher-ups had had a personal score to settle. He didn't just want the Graford family dead. He had wanted them to bleed. All of them. Rumlow had planned on mitigating some of the orders, but then the call had come in. The higher-up was on the phone. What was his name? Nicholai wasn't it? Nicholai something. He couldn't remember the last name now. It didn't matter. What mattered was Nicholai ordering a video-feed be opened so he could watch. And he made sure that each and every one of his orders were carried out. Even came up with a few new ones while he watched 'the show'._

 _Rumlow knew he had done some detestable things during his time with HYDRA. But what had happened tonight, he didn't know if he could live with this._

 _When he reached his motel room, he went directly to the sink in the bathroom and started scrubbing at the blood that still stained his hands. He needed it off. But it was hard. Alone in the bathroom, he couldn't stop his hands from shaking anymore, and he kept dropping the soap into the basin, fumbling as he tried to pick it up again._

 _"Do you need help?"_

 _He jumped and realized suddenly that of course he wasn't alone. He'd forgotten about the Soldier. The Soldier hadn't really been necessary on this mission. But Nicholai had wanted to make sure that nothing went wrong. And Pierce had agreed since the Soldier had been in cryo in Germany and he wanted to bring him to the US. It was easier to transport him awake._

 _Nicholai hadn't much cared about who hurt the Graford family, so Rumlow hadn't had to think about the Soldier much during the day and had forgotten about him now. Rumlow dearly wished that the Solider was anywhere else. Usually a post-mission talk with the Soldier calmed his nerves, was comforting, but right now…_

 _Rumlow shook his head. "No. I'm fine."_

 _The Soldier frowned. Only recently awake, he was in one of his more unnatural states, but obviously Rumlow looked distressed and he was the Soldier's commanding officer. "You don't look fine."_

 _"I said I'm fine," snapped Rumlow, "now get out of this bathroom."_

 _The Soldier obeyed without a word and shut the door._

 _Rumlow gave up on his hands and sat down on the floor, his legs no longer able to support him. He didn't need to look at the Soldier now. It made it worse. There was a man who really had no choice, who had no say in the things he was forced to do, and looking at him just now had felt like a reproach._

 _It had been a shock. Captain America had been pulled out of the ice a couple of months ago and suddenly every news channel was rehashing his story. Brock had been flicking channels when he'd seen it. A picture of the Howling Commandos and he'd thought he'd gone mad for a second because that looked…that had looked exactly like the Soldier standing in the front. But it couldn't be. Right? He had watched the news for hours. Pulled up stories on his laptop. It had taken him several hours to accept it. But eventually he had had too._

 _He hadn't seen the Soldier since that had happened. He hadn't been sure what he would do when he did. Probably nothing. But now, well now the truth just made tonight worse._

 _Of course he'd always suspected that the Soldier hadn't been a willing volunteer, loyal to HYDRA. After all, Brock had his only experience to judge on. But there was something about knowing the Soldier's real name, about knowing his history, about knowing who he used to be…_

 _And Brock could sit on this bathroom floor all night and tell himself that if he hadn't followed Nicholai's orders someone else would have. But it wouldn't change the fact that he had followed them. He had made a choice. He could tell himself all he wanted to that he was just doing what he had to survive, but there was a man out there in the other room named Bucky Barnes who if given the choice, which he never would be, Brock was pretty darn sure would choose resistance over survival._

 _For the first time Brock envied the Soldier. If the screams were anything to go on, the machine that wiped his mind must hurt like hell, but he wished to high heaven that someone would wipe his mind right now._

 _An hour or so later, he finally emerged from the bathroom. The Soldier was sitting on the couch._

 _Brock grabbed two beers from the minibar and handed one to him. They drank in silence. For once, Brock didn't try to make any conversation. In fact, he barely looked at the Soldier. But neither slept._

Brock took a shuddering breath and shut off the faucet and wondered why his hands were shaking.


	18. Chapter 18

Nicholai was thoughtful. Spread out on his desk were several reports that, put together, told an interesting story. The first was from Sam Wilson, detailing his actions on the day SHIELD fell. One paragraph was dedicated to his fight with Brock Rumlow. When Nicholai had first read that, it seemed like an open and shut case. The building had fallen. Rumlow must have died.

But there were two things that didn't quite add up. One was simply, where was the body? It was true there had been a lot of bodies, and not all of them had been found, but that particular section of rubble had been turned over pretty easily

The second point was a little fuzzier, and it had to do with the Soldier. There was a report written, by Steve Rogers, to the CIA, detailing his encounter with the Winter Soldier. It had been submitted in an attempt to enlist the agency's help in tracking the Soldier down, written to illustrate how Bucky Barnes was still inside him. It talked about the Soldier choosing to pull Rogers out from the water before walking off. The Soldier had then gone off into hiding. From the river, it would have been easy for the Soldier to head south.

But he didn't do that.

Nicholai picked up a photograph. It was taken from a security camera, one of the few that had survived the battle that day. It had taken a snap of the Soldier, quite close to where the building, with Rumlow in it, had fallen.

Why would the Soldier have gone back to SHIELD? It didn't make any sense. His goal had clearly been to disappear, as his later actions had proven, so why take the risk?

Nicholai had reread the Soldier's notebooks several times, and then he considered the act of pulling Rogers from the river. The Soldier would never have gone back to SHIELD that day. But Barnes might have. It had been Barnes who had dragged Rogers from the river. What if Barnes had dragged another friend from a fallen building?

Barnes would have gone back for Rogers. But Rogers was on a riverbank, so he wasn't the answer to the riddle. But Rumlow might have been.

And if they could find Rumlow now, Barnes might come back again for him, and then they'd have their Soldier once more.

But if the Soldier had rescued Rumlow…where would he have taken him? He would have been badly injured and wouldn't be able to go far and would have needed immediate medical attention. And since the man had apparently vanished off the face of the earth, clearly he had been taken to a discreet medical facility. It shouldn't be too hard to find out which one…

* * *

Brock parked his car outside of the nondescript building that held the private hospital. He didn't like having to come back every month, but the doctor who had done his surgery insisted that it was necessary. The burns had been too serious and infection was still a possibility.

He got out of the car an entered. It wasn't until he had reached the front desk and the receptionist dragged her eyes up off her keyboard and met his that he realized something was wrong. He had spent too much time around fear and seen that look too many times in his victims' eyes not to recognize it. She was terrified.

Instinct took over and he whirled, lashing out at the man who had silently come up behind him, knocking the needle out from his hand.

"There's no need for that," said a voice.

He turned to the speaker.

"Nicholai." The man had a gun pointed squarely at him, flanked by three other men, all armed.

They knew. Somehow, someway, they had figured out that it was he who was hunting HYDRA. So be it then. It least this time, he would have gone down fighting. This time he didn't give in.

"Hello Brock." Nicholai smiled. "It's been a while. I thought you were dead."

"Practically."

"Yes," said Nicholai, eyeing him. "I must say you have looked better. Your face has seen better days."

Brock clinched his fist. "So how much small talk are we going to make before you shoot?"

Nicholai looked genuinely surprised. "Shoot?"

"Or are we not doing this here? Need to take it some place more private? Someway messier than a shooting? Something that sends a message? There's nothing you can do I haven't earned."

"I frankly don't understand you Brock. I admit deserting HYDRA in her hour of need is quite shocking, but you're hardly the most important of us who has done it. Frankly this has absolutely nothing to do with you."

"What are you talking about?"

There was suddenly a sharp prick on his arm and Brock looked down. The man he had attacked had retrieved his needle and plunged it into Brock's arm.

"This is about your friend."

"My friend?" For a second Brock didn't understand but then, as darkness crept into the edges of his vision, comprehension, rapidly followed by horror, swept through him. There was only one person who could remotely be described as his friend. But how could Nicholai possibly know that.

Nicholai was speaking: "Yes, your little friend. Our Soldier."


	19. Chapter 19

Brock was still unconscious, his hands chained behind his back, his head lulling down on his chest.

Nicholai surveyed him dispassionately. Hopefully, this would work.

A man coughed behind him.

"Yes?" asked Nicholai, not looking back.

"Well, I was just wondering sir, how exactly are you going to let the Soldier know we have him? And do you really think he'll come for him?"

"I don't know if he'll come or not. But when you have nothing, you sometimes do very foolish things when there's an illusion of something to be had. The Soldier has an illusion of a friend. I think there's a good chance that he'll want to save that illusion. Or else he'll be left with even less than nothing. As to how we'll let him know?" He smiled and walked over to the stack of diaries on a nearby table. "We'll send a message. A message I think he'll understand."

He flipped open the green notebook, found the page he was looking for, and began writing.

* * *

Clint was laughing as he watched Bruce try to show Thor how to use the iPad. It was not an unmitigated success and Bruce's patience was clearly being tried.

Steve sipped his beer at the kitchen counter, waiting for the timer to go off for the pizza.

"I'm surprised we haven't seen Hulk smash tablet yet," said Clint grinning.

Bruce shot him a frown. "It's an alien technology. I suspect if you tried to use something of a similar level of complexity from Asgard you would have as much trouble as Thor."

"I couldn't do worse."

Thor grinned, too good natured to be annoyed and only appreciating the humor of the situation.

"Where's Tony?" asked Natasha, opening the refrigerator to grab a drink. "JARVIS? Didn't he say he was heading up about twenty minutes ago?"

"Indeed," replied JARVIS's voice. "However I believe he got distracted while checking the news." If a robot could sound cautious, JARVIS had just managed it and Steve couldn't help but wonder what was up.

Clint rolled his eyes. "Well we're not saving any pizza for him." The timer went off and Clint sat up a little straighter. "Ah ha! Finally! I'm starved."

At that moment the elevator doors slid open and Tony stepped out. He was holding a tablet in one hand.

"Just in time, dinner's ready," said Steve, taking the final swig of his beer and setting it down. "Would you like a beer-" He stopped. He had just noticed the expression on Tony's face. It was pure fury. He had never seen Tony look that angry before, and Tony was looking directly at him.

Tony crossed the room and slammed the tablet down on the counter in front of Steve and said, in a voice deadly, icily serious, "Did you know?"

The voice was so unlike Tony's that everyone looked over at him.

"Tony are you okay?" asked Steve.

"Did. You. Know?"

"Did I know _what_?"

Tony pushed the tablet closer to Steve who picked it up and glanced down at it.

It seemed to be a picture of a notebook page of handwritten notes. The writing was familiar. Steve had seen a similar page and recently, now where…oh. Bucky's diary. The one he had left behind to try and scare Steve off. But Steve had read that from cover to cover and this page didn't look familiar…

"What is this?" he asked.

Tony tensed as if he was barely containing his rage, and when he spoke it was in short, clipped tones. "That diary we found of Barnes. Apparently it wasn't the only one. There are a bunch more and someone got a hold of them. And put them all online."

Steve looked up in shock. "Bucky? Does he know yet? I need to go check-"

Out of nowhere Tony lunged forward and Steve found himself being slammed back against the wall. Natasha jumped forward.

"Tony what are you doing?" she demanded.

Tony ignored her. "Did you know about my parents?"

For a split second the question was incomprehensible and then Steve's eyes widened as understanding came shattering in.

No. It couldn't be-, but it explained it didn't it? Bucky's refusal to move into Avenger Tower with Tony Stark. The Winter Soldier, HYDRA's favorite assassin, why wouldn't he be used to silence Howard?

"It was Bucky," whispered Steve.

Tony stared at him and then suddenly disgust joined the anger. "You knew. You knew about my parents."

"I didn't know it was Bucky-"

The arm holding him against the wall dropped but a split second later a fist swung up and punched him across the jaw.

"Tony!" Bruce moved forward, passing Natasha who had been standing stock-still since Tony mentioned his parents. Bruce put himself between the two men.

"You knew my parents were murdered and you didn't tell me! I gave you a home and this is how you repay me?" Tony was yelling now.

"I'm sorry Tony, but I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if you'd want to know-"

"You know what he says he did?" Tony grabbed the tablet off the counter. "He strangled my _mother_ , Rogers. He killed my father and then he strangled her!"

"It wasn't his fault-"

Tony let out a growl and made to lunge forward, but Bruce intervened. "Tony! Tony, don't!"

"Get out of my way."

"Not until you calm down-"

Tony turned to glare at him and then shoved the tablet into his hands. "Read it."

"Tony."

"Read what that, that _thing_ wrote, describing killing my parents and then try telling me to calm down! Would you be calm if it was your mother Bruce?" And with that, Tony turned on his heels and left the room.

The smell of burning food wafted from the stove but everyone ignored it. Steve and Natasha exchanged looks.

"We should have told him," she said quietly.

"You knew?" Clint asked, surprised.

"Yes. When SHIELD fell, we learned that HYDRA had them killed. And we should have told him."


	20. Chapter 20

It was almost funny how predictable they all were, Clint thought. When Steve was upset, he went and took it out on punching bags. Sam, new as he was, had already made his pattern clear. He went to the VA. When Bruce was upset he went to the indoor Zen garden that Tony had built for him. It was probably the only Zen garden in the world surrounded by steal plated walls. After all, if Bruce was upset, it was best to have a Hulk-proof room. When it was Thor…well you couldn't actually find Thor. Not that Thor often got upset, but every now and then he'd get a bit moody over Loki or something and then he'd head off knowing that the other Avengers weren't exactly understanding on the topic. He would often go to Jane's, sometimes back to Asgard. When Natasha was upset, you could typically find her doing yoga on the roof. She liked the roof. She liked to be able to look out over New York. In a way, it showed her how far she'd come. When Clint was upset, well he liked the roof as well. He'd perch on the edge, dangling his feet over it, and look up at the sky.

And when it was Tony…it was always the lab.

Clint waited until about two in the morning before venturing down there. He wasn't surprised to find Tony wide awake and tinkering.

"What are you working on?"

Tony glanced up and glowered. "Nothing you'd understand."

Clint nodded and paused for a second. "Probably true."

Tony continued to tinker. "What do you want?"

"Nothing. Just thought I'd hang."

"Yeah, well no offense Robin Hood, I'm not really in a 'hanging' mood right now. And if you've come to give me a lecture, I'm not in the mood for that either. Frankly the only thing I'm in the mood for is to be left alone."

Clint snorted. "You've really got to come up with some new archers. You've already used Robin Hood about ten times." Tony opened his mouth but Clint forestalled him. "And Katniss and Legolas."

There was a pause. "William Tell?" suggested Tony.

"Lacks zing but at least it's new."

Tony snorted.

"So seriously," said Clint, sensing a thawing in Tony's manner and stepping further into the room. "What _are_ you working on?"

Tony shrugged. "Some upgrades for the suit. I'm trying to boost the neural-"

Clint raised a hand. "Upgrades for the suit is about my scientific level of understanding. Let's leave it at that."

He watched Tony work for a while, not saying anything. At last Tony set down his screwdriver and sighed in annoyance. Clint resisted the urge to grin. He'd known Tony would crack first.

"Seriously Clint? What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Exactly. You're just standing there. What? You want me to go apologize to Captain Perfect America? Cause that's not going to happen."

"Didn't say it should. I don't blame you for being angry."

"Good! Because I am angry. And frankly if I saw him right now I'm not sure I could resist punching him again. And if I did, I'm sure I wouldn't be able resist telling him to get out of my house!"

Clint blinked. "You want to kick him out?"

"I didn't say that…I don't know." Tony shrugged. "Every time I think about Steve, I see red."

"And Natasha."

"What?"

"She knew too."

"What!" Tony stood to his feet.

"Apparently during that whole 'running for their lives from SHIELD' thing, that's when they found out about your parents."

"They knew all this time, and neither _one_ of them-"

Clint nodded. "Apparently so. Natasha was talking to me about it after your scene upstairs. I think they were both in denial to be honest."

" _They_ were in denial!"

"Yes. I mean it was SHIELD. You can't understand what SHIELD meant to Natasha. It was her home. It was the closest thing she had to a home until you gave her a place here. And Steve, well." Clint shrugged. "SHIELD represented something to him. Something worth fighting for. I think Steve's been fighting so long that that's just how he faces the world. And it was too difficult for them to face facts that this institution they loved had killed their friend's parents. It was a level f betrayal they couldn't wrap their heads around. Your family but SHIELD was family too."

Tony gripped his screwdriver and looked like he would love nothing better than to ram it through someone's eye. Clint hurried on, keen to make sure it wasn't his eye.

"SHIELD meant a lot to me too," he continued. "It represented something for me that I never had anywhere else, at least not until moving into the tower. I can't begin to describe what it felt like, after Loki, when I woke up and realized what I'd done, the lives I'd taken-"

"That wasn't your fault," said Tony.

"Really? Wasn't it?"

"Of course not! Loki had magic. He took control of your mind. You weren't the only one."

"Selvig fought it. Put that failsafe into the portal so it could be shut down."

"He still built the dang thing though and let in a bunch of aliens. Going to blame him for that?"

"I don't know. Are you?"

"Of course not."

"You blame Bucky."

Tony's stanch shifted ever so slightly, but Clint knew danger when he saw it. It was taking every ounce of Stark's self-control not to through a punch and Clint appreciated that fact. But he pressed on.

"Way I see it," said Clint, "either I'm responsible for every life I took under Loki's control, and you blame Bucky for what HYDRA make him did. Or you I'm not, than neither is he."

"You were controlled by magic!"

"And HYDRA messed up Bucky's brain so thoroughly his mind wasn't even his own."

There was a long silence and then Tony said, his voice very soft. "They were my parents Clint."

"I killed parents, sons, daughters, mothers."

"Why the hell are you doing this?"

"Because I know what Bucky's going through. I get that you're angry at Steve. And maybe Natasha and frankly I don't care if you guys duke it out or have a bloody battle. But I know what Bucky's going through. And I think I know what you're going through."

"Bull. You haven't got any idea."

"You think I haven't lost people in my time? It's easier to be angry than sad, so you choose anger. It's easier to punch Steve than to go through all that pain over again."

"So why won't you just let me do that?" snapped Tony.

"Because sometimes you just need to grieve. This isn't Steve's fault. And deep down you know this isn't Bucky's fault. It's HYDRA's, but there isn't much HYDRA left to go after. And maybe there's someone else in a heck ton of my pain than you're in right now." And with that, Clint left the room, leaving Tony standing in the center of the room trying to figure out whether he was furious or devastated.


	21. Chapter 21

Sharon grasped the door handle, took a deep breath, and pulled.

Bucky was seated on the floor, crossed legged, his back to the wall. There was a perfectly comfortable chair in his room but for some reason he always seemed to prefer to sit on the floor. Perhaps, she thought sadly, he wasn't used to be comfortable. He rose to his feet as she entered.

There was a pause, as there usually was (he wasn't used to speaking first, he was used to being spoken too) and then he said, "Yes? Am I'm a late for a session? I thought I didn't have anything this morning."

"No. No I needed to talk to you about something. Something has come up. Of course if you need to speak to someone you can, we have a doctor on standby, but, I thought you should know. You have a right to know." She knew she was beating about the bush but she was nervous. There's been a lot of debate about whether or not to tell him but the cold hard fact of the matter was they didn't have a choice. He was going to find out and if he learned they'd been keeping it from him than any hope they had of gaining his trust would be obliterated. And after everything he'd been through, once you lost his trust you were never getting it back.

"What?" he was eying her warily, as if preparing for some twist, a change in the script, anything to show that they didn't really want to help him, that they were just going to use him as everyone else had done before.

"Maybe you should sit down?" Even as she said it, it sounded stupid. After everything he'd been through, having to sit down for shocks probably wasn't necessary at this point.

"What is it?" he asked again, tensing.

"Look, I have something to tell you, something's online. I don't know how it got there or who put it there. For all I know it's not even real." But that was a lie. They'd already run the handwriting through their system and the computer said it was a match for Barnes. "And I thought you should know about it."

Now he was looking confused, at least that was better than on edge. When the Winter Soldier was on edge in the same room as you, it took all your training not to go into fight or flight mode yourself. "What are you talking about?"

"Some journals have been released online," she explained, "claiming to be yours."

There was a long, heavy silence. She saw in his eyes the moment he realized, the moment he connected the dots, and her heart broke for him. It wasn't that she could see any of the emotion he must be feeling, but she could see that it was true. They were his journals. And no matter what the computers said there'd been that sliver of hope inside her that it was all wrong, that they weren't his. But now she knew they were, beyond any shadow of a doubt, and she broke for the man. She had read them. Of course she'd known before some of the hell he'd been through, but this, seeing it put down in his own handwriting…

Every line in those journals had dripped self-loathing and self-revulsion and self-hatred. She wanted to reach out and hug him and tell him it was all wrong. None of this was on him. But it wouldn't do any good.

"I want to see them," he said flatly.

She blinked. "Are you sure?"

He nodded curtly.

She handed over a tablet. "Do you want me to get someone to talk to? I know this has to be a shock but it doesn't change anything. I know having all of this out there must be hard, it must be worse than hard, it must be impossible, but we want to help you. I want to help you."

"I want to be left alone," he said curtly, and sat down, the tablet in hand, and started scrolling.

"Bucky…" she said tentatively.

But he didn't look up. He didn't even seem to register that he heard her.

Quietly she left the room.

* * *

 _Why? Why?_

As Bucky kept scrolling through the journals on the tablet, he kept asking himself that question.

As soon as Sharon had told him about it, his brain had started connecting the dots. He knew where he'd left them. He knew who had to have taken them. HYDRA did this, but why? What did they hope to gain? Did they know he'd turned himself in? Did they hope somehow, exposing everything he'd done, that they'd turn the Avengers and CIA against him? But there were enough stories and rumors already out there about the Winter Soldier. The CIA had already known what they were getting into, Steve knew what he was getting into…so _why?_

He kept scrolling. The answer had to be there. This had to be some kind of message. This had to be about him. But what was it?

Page after page, bloody deed after bloody dead flashed before his eyes but he kept skimming, he kept looking-

And then he stopped cold.

On one page, tucked in a corner, he saw something he hadn't written. It was nothing more than a name… Nicholai.

He scanned the page and knew instantly which notebook it had come from. The green one. Brock's. And he knew what it meant. He knew what it had to mean. And he knew what he had to do.

* * *

Less than thirty minutes later, a car pulled up at the facility's parking lot at the same time as Steve's motorcycle. Steve kicked the motorbike's stand down and glanced at the car, recognizing it.

The car door swung open and Tony stepped out, pulling off his shades.

For a moment the two men stood, staring at each other.

Steve was the one to break the silence. "What are you doing here?"

"Probably the same as you," said Tony with a coolness that grated on Steve's nerves.

"I'm here to see Bucky."

"Me too."

Steve hesitated. "Look, I don't blame you for being angry at me. I wouldn't blame you if you hit me again or threw me out. I should have told you. I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry. But I can't let you take out that hurt on Bucky. I know from where you're standing it doesn't seem that way, but he's innocent in this. He's a victim too."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm here to take a swing at Barnes?"

"Aren't you?"

"Actually," said Tony, pulling a newly copied house key out of his pocket and tossing it to Steve. "I'm here to renew my offer that he move into Avenger Tower."

Steve stared at the key in his hand. "You're kidding?"

"I at least think it's a conversation that should be reopened. Guessing he said no the last time because he knew I didn't have all the facts, this time I do. So maybe he'll change his mind." Steve turned his gaze to stare at him. "Look," continued Tony with a sigh, "I've been up all night and already had a lecture from Clint, so I'm not in the mood for a long heart to heart here, okay? By the way have you ever had one of Clint's heart to hearts? That man is unbearably right. It's really annoying. Anyways I'm still ticked off at you and Natasha, and I'm not saying I'm keen on Barnes or him moving in. I'm not okay with any of this. But I am a genius remember? Thinking intellectually is my thing. And I know he needs help and he didn't want to do the things HYDRA made him do. So why can't he and I work through this under one roof? Seems only fair."

"I…thank you Tony. And I a truly am sorry. I should have told you."

"Yeah, I know you are. Come on, let's go tackle Barnes together."

The two headed towards the building and into the lobby.

"What's going on?" asked Tony, stopping as they entered, looking around in confusion.

There was an entire SWAT team in the lobby, and Sharon was pacing, talking rapidly into a phone. As soon as she caught sight of them she hung up and hurried over.

"What's going on?" asked Steve.

"It's Bucky, I'm so sorry Steve, I screwed up. He's gone."


	22. Chapter 22

For what felt like the hundredth time, Brock strained against his bonds and for the hundredth time, they didn't give. The blood that had trickled down his forehead, a wound given to him when he'd lashed out earlier at a guard who'd strayed too close, had dried now on the side of his face, itching. A headache throbbed through his head, his shoulders were sore from having his arms bound behind his back for hour after hour. His stomach rumbled from hunger. He was the bait for a trap. Nicholai wasn't interested in keeping him healthy. After all, as soon as the trap was sprung there would be no need to keep him alive.

But all the pain and discomfort barely registered. He kept wondering if Nicholai was right. Nicholai was so sure that the Solider would come for him, but the more Brock thought about it the more impossible it seemed. Yes, the Soldier had come back to pull him out of the building. But that was different. It had been relatively safe. Surely the Solider wouldn't walk into the lion's den to save him? Rumlow knew in every fiber of his being that he didn't deserve it, so surely the Solider had to know that as well?

Again, he tested the bonds. The chains round his wrists dug into his already sore and bleeding skin, bleeding from the countless other times he'd strained against them. But there was no give. He knew he wasn't breaking free but he kept trying, what else was there to do? The end was coming. One way or another.

He was in a small room. He thought there were two guards outside but he wasn't certain. He believed they were in an old HYDRA compound in Onterio. He didn't know this compound well but it would make sense. Nicholai had overseen multiple operations from this compound. He wondered briefly, how long Nicholai would wait for the Soldier before giving up and ordering a bullet through Brock's head.

There was a distant sound. Dull and far off. He couldn't place it exactly.

He closed his eyes. At least he'd taken some of them down. He'd had some revenge before Nicholai had found him. Revenge or justice. He'd had something and he didn't care what it was.

There was a crash, closer now, and suddenly an alarm started blaring through the building.

He opened his eyes. There was a bang against the wall, of a body thrown against it, what sounded like a scuffle and then the door crashed opened.

And there, standing in the doorway, was a shape Rumlow had last seen walking away after depositing him at the hospital. The Soldier.

He couldn't believe it. He'd worried that the man might come but he had never actually, in any corner of his being, believed that he would. For a moment the two men looked at each other, and Brock wondered if Barnes was as surprised at coming as he was to see him. Because it was Barnes standing there wasn't it? And not the Soldier.

"You can't be here," said Rumlow, it came out like a snap. "It's a trap."

There was a fraction of a pause, and Rumlow wondered what was going on in the man's head, and then Barnes moved forward.

"I know."

"If you know, what are you doing here?" It still came out like a snap.

"I wasn't going to leave you to them."

Barnes began examining his chains.

Suddenly, the alarm that had been ringing through the building shut off, filling the room with a still, eerie silence. And then the speakers crackled back to life as a voice, Nicholai's voice, came over the system, ringing throughout the building.

 _"Longing."_

Brock felt Barnes's fingers freeze.

"You have to get out of here!" barked Rumlow in the same tone he had once used to command men. "Now!"

 _"Rusted."_

Barnes balled his metal arm into a fist and slammed it against the chain, crushing in into the wall.

"There's no time! Get out of here!"

Continuing to ignore him, Barnes slammed it again into the chain and then again. There was a snap as one of the links cracked. Brock surged forward as the chain fell away. His muscles screamed at suddenly moving into a new position after so long in one hold, but none of that mattered. Barnes had to get out of here now.

 _"Seventeen."_

"This way," said Barnes, he took off at a run, Rumlow right behind him. They were down one hallway and up a flight of stairs.

 _"Daybreak."_

Brock knew that Barnes was holding back. He knew what the Soldier was capable of and that he was slowing down so Brock could keep up.

 _"Furnace."_

The volume was loud. Too loud. Brock could feel each word vibrating inside his skull. There was no way to escape it. No way for Barnes to block it out. They had to get out of the compound. They had to escape those words.

They took another hallway. Three men were at the end of it, guns raised. Barnes threw himself at them. Bullets ricocheted. Brock felt a jolt of pain in his leg as a bullet shot through the side of it and he stumbled to the ground.

Barnes snapped a neck, shot the other two and was back by Brock's side in less than thirty seconds.

 _"Nine."_

"You have to get out of here!" Rumlow said through gritted teeth. "You need to run! Now!"

"I'm not leaving you," said Barnes flatly.

"Why the hell not? I'm HYDRA! I'm the enemy! I'm the people who did this to you!"

Barnes's face read complete and utter determination. "I came for you. And I'm here…till the end of the line." And with that, Barnes grabbed Rumlow's arm, swung it around his own neck, and dragged him to his feet.

 _"Benign."_

Brock's leg screamed in agony, but with Barnes taking most of his weight, he could manage a jog down the hallway.

Barnes seemed to know his way. They made their way up a second flight of stairs. They were now out of the underground potion of the compound. But they were also running out of time.

 _"Homecoming."_

Brock felt Barnes's grip tighten. He could feel the panic radiating off of the man. The only times he had seen fear in the Soldier was when he was being put in that chair. The memory nauseated him. Everything the Soldier had been put through. Why wouldn't he just leave him? Let HYDRA kill him and be done with it. Simpler. Neater. And Barnes would be safe, away from the words. Why had he had to come for him? Rumlow wanted to yell at him that he should have left well enough alone.

They made their way up a second flight and down a hall. They were in a more elegant, office space now, with large full length glass windows that looked out over the countryside. And suddenly Brock knew what they were making for. A portion of the compound was built along a large, open lake. They were making for that.

It was just insight now: the glass walls looking out over the glistening water.

 _"One."_

Barnes let go of him, leaving Rumlow to lean against a chair. He grabbed a table and threw it, shattering the glass which fell in a shower out across the water.

Rumlow limped forward, they were feet away now. One jump and they would be out, away from the words. They could make it-

 _"Freight Car."_

Barnes froze behind him.

Rumlow turned. "No! No!" He grabbed Barnes's arm.

 _"Soldier…"_ Nicholai's voice came silky and smooth across the speaker.

"…Ready to comply." The tone was emotionless.

As the words left the Soldier's mouth, Rumlow gave an actual grunt of pain.

 _"Wait for me where you are Soldier. I'll be right there._ "

The Soldier looked down at Rumlow's hand on his arm.

He'd been Bucky so recently. He'd had a taste of freedom. The part of him that was always Bucky, that was always there fighting, even when fighting was impossible, the part that screamed deep down at each atrocity the Soldier was forced in inflict, had been in control for an extended time, so recently, and the words weren't as strong without the chair…and Nickolai's only order had been to stay there, he hadn't said anything else. And Rumlow was HYDRA. He'd been the Soldier's commanding officer on more than one occasion. There were wisps of long forgotten memories of the past. There was so much confusion and blackness in the Soldier's mind. But there'd been one thought raging through his head before he'd lost control, and in some, confused, mixed up way, that thought was still there.

The Soldier reached out, and pushed.

Rumlow went staggering back through the window and fell towards the water below.


	23. Chapter 23

Nickolai surveyed the Soldier and smiled to himself. Barnes really was a fool, wasn't he? Coming for Rumlow. It was strange that out of such a sentimental idiot, HYDRA's greatest tool had been created. It simply showed the power of HYDRA.

A guard peered down at the lake through the shattered window. "Rumlow seems to have escaped. Should we go after him?"

Nickolai waved this away. "Rumlow is unimportant now that we have the Soldier. At some point we may kill him, but for now we have bigger issues. The Soldier will keep us safe, while HYDRA is rebuilt."

* * *

 _Whack. Whack._

The sound of Steve's punches rang through the gym.

Tony stood in the doorway for a full minute watching him. He knew Steve must have heard him enter but the man was refusing to acknowledge him, he just kept hitting the punching bag with ever increasing force.

It wasn't until the bag split open from a particularly vicious swing, that Tony cleared his throat and stepping into the room.

"You know I've never had my budget for punching bags be so high. And here I was blaming it on Thor."

"What do you want Tony?" asked Steve over his shoulder as he unhooked the bag and tossed it aside.

"Well you've basically been hiding out in the gym for the past couple of days. We figured someone should come check on you and I pulled the short straw."

"I'm fine," he snapped.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Once more with feeling?"

Steve sighed in annoyance. "I said I'm fine. I just want to be left alone."

"Yeah, we tried that, you're still here punching bags three days later."

"Tony-"

"Sharon's been calling."

At this Steve turned around sharply. "Any word?"

"No. Still no sign of Barnes."

"Oh." He turned away again.

"But you should talk to her. She's beating herself up over this."

"It wasn't her fault," said Steve.

"Okay, well she doesn't know that. She blames herself for showing Bucky those diaries and leaving him alone afterwards."

"It wasn't her fault," Steve repeated. "It was mine."

Tony blinked. "Come again?"

"I should have gone over to see him the second those journals leaked. I should have been there with him when he found out about it. I should have been the one to tell him. He ran away because he couldn't bear knowing that I knew. It's obvious. But I didn't even think about going over until the next day, I was too worried about you."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "So this is my fault?" he asked, a little icily.

"No, I said it was mine. I just should have got to him sooner."

"You know, I know you love laying everything on yourself, because that's what you do and by the way, we really need to get you to a therapist to talk through this savior complex of yours at some point, but maybe Barnes running wasn't all about you. Maybe it was about everyone knowing and seeing those journals. Maybe he was scared that the CIA would turn on him. Maybe he decided he just didn't want to deal with it after all. I don't know. There's got to be a whole rat's nest of stuff going on in that guy's head that you couldn't get to the bottom of with a shovel, and yes, I get it, you and him were close and grew up together and everything, but that still doesn't mean it all has to be about _you_."

Steve frowned. "I didn't say it was all about me!"

"Yeah, you kind of did. Look, for once, I'm not trying to be mean-"

"Really?"

"Really. I'm just not as good at this as Bruce or Clint. But hiding out in this gym isn't going to do you or Barnes any good. We're going to find him."

Steve scoffed. "He gave himself up this time. He isn't going to do it again."

"How do you know? He came to you because you're important to him. I don't care what he said about getting HYDRA out. Maybe he believed all that but I don't. He came because of you and he'll come back because of you. Or we find him. We got close once before, we'll get close again. I promise you Steve, this isn't the last we see of Barnes."

Steve hesitated. "Thank you. I know you probably wish it was. And I don't blame you. I understand that knowing he was controlled by HYDRA when he…well when he did those things, is different from feeling that way."

"I'm not going to lie and say it's not. But I was reading through some of those journals. Some of what's in there…it sickening. Not just what HYDRA made him do but what they did to him. It reminded me of my time in Afghanistan."

Steve frowned. "What time?"

Tony chuckled wryly. "Ah you haven't discovered the many joys of Googling your family and friends yet. You really are an innocent from another time."

"What about Afghanistan?" insisted Steve.

Tony shrugged. "It was before I was Iron Man. Stark Industries was still selling weapons and I went to Afghanistan for a weapon's test. While there I was captured and tortured, in an attempt to force me to create weapons for them. There was a man there who gave me strength, saved my life, and inspired me. I pretended to comply with the demands and instead built my first suit and killed them all. But I was lucky; on a lot of counts I was lucky. It could have gone very differently."

"I…I had no idea."

"It's not something that typically comes up in day to day conversation. But what I'm saying, even after what I've been through, I can't even begin to imagine what Barnes has. I don't know if I can ever be completely alright with what happened with my parents, but I'm going to do everything I can to help you find him Steve. And then whatever I can to help you help him, I promise that as well."

Steve smiled. "Thank you Tony. You know, I don't know think I ever properly apologized to you, for all that stuff I said to you on the carrier when we first met. I couldn't have been more wrong."

"Eh. Old folks never understand the modern generation."

Steve rolled his eyes.

"Come on," continued Tony, "let's go grab a beer."

"Sounds good."

As the two headed towards the elevator, an alarm suddenly started to ring and JARVIS's voice came over the speaker.

"Intruder alert in the common area sir."

The two men burst into a run.

* * *

The elevator doors slid open and Steve and Tony emerged into the living room. There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs, more Avengers coming onto the scene. For a moment, Steve and Tony looked around, ready for a fight, expecting to see weapons or enemies. Instead, there was simply one man, seated in one of the armchairs, apparently waiting for them in comfort, drinking a beer from the fridge.

Steve tensed beside Tony. "Rumlow?"

Brock raised his beer to him. "Hello Cap. You're looking good. Me? Well." He gestured to his scarred face. "You know, I think I look pretty good, all things considered."


	24. Chapter 24

When he'd first plunged into the lake, the only thought in his head had been to get as far away as possible, as fast as possible. Every muscle in his body had ached, his leg protested in pain, but Brock had ignored it all, cutting through the water with sheer, single-minded determination.

His flight instinct didn't calm down for several hours. But later that night, hidden away in an empty cabin he'd broken into, he couldn't get the Soldier out of his head. He kept seeing the expression on the Soldier's face as he'd pushed him through the window: completely blank, except for the eyes. Brock felt he could see his own nightmares in those eyes. And he saw Barnes, bending over him, fiercely refusing to leave him. And for a while he hated Barnes for it. Because he knew, deep down, that Barnes had made it impossible for Rumlow to leave him to his fate.

But he couldn't save him alone. And that fact made him angry too. And he argued with himself the whole way back to New York and the whole way into Avenger Tower.

As he surveyed the people in the room, he tried to appear relax and calm. He took another swig of his beer to help with the image. But there were a number of eyes it was hard to meet. Steve was standing over him, radiating what Brock would describe as righteous anger. Natasha was leaning against the wall, watching him like a hawk. A very deadly, dangerous hawk that was just looking for an excuse to strike. Clint was straddling the back of a chair. He wasn't looking particularly angry or like he wanted to hurt Brock. But Rumlow couldn't get their missions together out of his head for some reason.

It was easier to ignore the ex-SHIELD agents and focus on Stark and Sam, the only other two in the room.

"How did you even make it out of that building in time?" asked Sam, curious.

Rumlow ran a finger along one of his scars. "I didn't. Not in time."

"So that explains the new look," said Natasha icily.

"What do you want?" asked Steve, folding his arms. "Why show up here when everyone thought you were dead?"

"And drinking my beer," added Tony.

Rumlow swirled the bottle. "Not quite everyone thought I was dead. HYDRA figured out that I wasn't."

Steve stiffened at the mention of HYDRA. "Wouldn't have thought that'd be a problem for you."

Rumlow hesitated. He'd known he'd be met with antagonism, but he hadn't realized how _hard_ he'd find it to explain. Would Steve understand? Probably not. He himself didn't even entirely understand it.

Clint cleared his throat. "Brock, what is it you want? Are you looking for some kind of witness protection from HYDRA?"

"Why should he?" snapped Natasha. "Why run away from them? He was a good little soldier for them right up until we tore them down. If he thinks now that they're weak and crumbling he can just switch sides, he's a bigger fool than I thought."

"I know Brock," said Clint.

"As do I," said Steve, "and there's not a chance I'm going to trust a word out of his mouth."

"I've been on several missions with him," said Clint, ignoring the interruption. "He's not a fool. I want to hear him out." He nodded to Rumlow. "Why are you here?" There was a levelness to his tone, and evenness that was easier to answer.

Rumlow carefully set down the beer bottle. "Because I need your help to make something right. And I think you're going to want help me." He looked up, and met Steve's gaze head on. "It's Barnes."

Steve unfolded his arms and took a step closer. "What do you know about Bucky?" he demanded.

"I know HYDRA has him. He's the Soldier again."

"How do you know this?"

"Because I was the bait in their trap to catch him. The last thing Barnes did before he lost control to them again, was to save my life."

"I don't believe you," said Steve flatly. "There's no reason why Bucky would do that."

"Actually…" said Tony.

Steve turned to him, surprised. "What?"

Tony shrugged. "Like I said, I've been reading some of those journals of his. Pretty sure Rumlow was mentioned. Those parts are pretty confused but, it almost sounds like he and Rumlow were friends or something."

"That's not possible. It's the mind control. He's confused. But Bucky, in his right mind, would know Rumlow was HYDRA. He'd never be friends with HYDRA."

"I agree," said Natasha. "I don't know Barnes, but I do know a trap when I see one. This is a trap," she said, nodding at Brock. "We have no reason to believe HYDRA has Barnes. Barnes ran off on his own, and he's avoided both us and HYDRA all this time, it's hard to believe suddenly he gets caught five minutes after going on the run again. If I had to make a bet, this is HYDRA's attempt to lure Barnes out of hiding. This is the trap, with Steve as the bait."

"No!" said Rumlow, "Look, I know I betrayed you."

"You tried to kill us," said Steve.

"Yes. I don't deny it. But I was free. You thought I was dead and gone. You think I'm going to risk my freedom and my life to come tell you this if it's not true?"

"HYDRA demands complete loyalty doesn't it?" asked Natasha.

"I'm done with HYDRA!" Brock snapped.

Clint was watching him, studying his face carefully. "How can we believe that? You've shown yourself to be an adept liar and actor in the past. How can we believe that you're telling the truth now?"

"Because I've been killing them. I've been taking out their agents and bases that are still standing. At least the ones I can track down. You don't quit HYDRA and I want to be free of them. For good."

"If you were working with them, you would also know about the attacks on them," said Natasha. "Anyone can claim to be responsible for an attack."

"You're going to know that I'm telling the truth when the Winter Soldier makes an attack of his own."

"And until then, you can stay in a CIA holding cell," said Steve.

"But I don't know how long that will take! Nickolai might want to keep a low profile with the Solider, possibly for some time. You need to save him! Now! He deserves that!"

An ugly expression crossed Steve's face, an expression that was quite alien to him, an expression that some people might have sworn he didn't have. In one quick stride he was by Brock's chair, his hand was around Brock's arm, and he'd dragged him roughly to his feet. "Don't!" he said, his voice ringing with fury and danger. "Don't pretend you care what happens to Bucky! HYDRA had him for decades. You could have stopped it. You could have come to me. You could have come to Natasha. You could have told someone! But you let them freeze him, and play with his brain and drench his hands in blood, and you didn't lift a finger to stop it and you did everything in your power to keep it that way. So don't pretend that you have his better interests at heart. You're not Bucky's friend. His friend would have gotten him out of there or died trying."

"Cap?" It was Stark, bringing him back. He was nearby, looking at Steve with surprise and also a certain amount of respect.

"You're right," said Brock, as calmly as he possibly could. "I'm not his friend. I'm a coward. If I wasn't a coward, I'd never have joined HYDRA. I'd have died with my team. But here I am. Maybe it was because I was a coward that I ever even tried to help him, if you can call treating him like a human being and not an animal or machine, helping. I was too much of a coward to face what I really was and treating him halfway decently was easier. But he came for me. He was the one that dragged me out of the building when it fell. And he was the one that scarified control over his own mind so that I could escape. He knew it was a trap, he knew what they were after, and he still came. And the trigger words were blaring through the whole building and I told him to leave me. He could have gotten out in time if he'd left me behind. But he wouldn't. He said he was sticking in there with me until the end of the line, and that's exactly what he did. The last action he took was to save me, even as he was losing control of himself. I've never met a braver man. And maybe I can borrow a bit of that bravery to do the right thing for once in my cowardly life. I'm going to save him, or at least I'm going to try, with or without you."

Steve's grip on his arm loosened. "What did you say?"

"Seriously? You want me to repeat that whole thing?"

"No, I mean, the end of the line part?"

"Oh," said Brock, confused. "That's just what he said. That he came for me and he was staying, until the end of the line. He wouldn't leave me."

Steve stared. "He really did come for you didn't he? Alright," he took a step back, "I'm willing to listen. What can you tell us about who has him? And how we can find him?"


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: Short chapter, but better than none! :-) I hope.**

Tony jogged down the hallway to catch up to Steve. "Hey, hold on minute."

Steve turned. "Yes?"

"Look, I know you want to find Bucky, and it seems like this guy might be able to lead us to him. But are you sure you can trust him?"

"No. Absolutely not. Whatever Rumlow is planning, we're going to have to be ready when the time comes. But I do believe they have Bucky. And even though it's a trap, if they have him, I have to go get him."

"What do you think his plan is then exactly?"

"I wish I knew."

Tony nodded. "Well at the very least we can get some idea of who we're dealing with. JARVIS?"

"Yes sir?"

"I want you to run a scan through all the HYDRA/SHEILD files. Look for anything you can find about Brock Rumlow."

"Very good sir."

Tony turned back to Steve. "In the meantime, are you sure we shouldn't talk to the CIA? Sharon might be able to help us."

"No. We don't have time for a lot of red tape or arguments. The Avengers can handle this."

"I still wish Thor was coming with us."

"As do I. But we can't wait for him to return from Asgard."

"Okay, but Bruce-"

"No. This is not the time for Hulk. There's not enough control there. If he and the Winter Soldier end up fighting-"

"That would be awesome!" Tony coughed and cleared his throat. "I mean a disaster. But really, really cool."

* * *

Brock surveyed the weapons rack. They would be flying out soon, once the Avengers that were coming had a chance to gear up. He just hoped they'd be able to find Nickolai and the Soldier. The one advantage they had was Brock was fairly certain Nickolai wouldn't guess he'd gone to the Avengers. Which mean he wouldn't view Rumlow as a threat, which in turn would mean he wouldn't see a need to change his usual MO. And Rumlow knew what that was. He knew where Nickolai was likely to go.

First off, he had the Soldier but he'd want to stick him in the chair as soon as possible. Versions of the chair had been installed in several bases but many of them would be too dangerous to go to now. But there was one, down in Mexico, that Nickolai had worked out of before, and that was kept very quiet. He'd think it would be safe, at least for a quick stop. If they could make it there before they left…

Clint lifted his bow from off the rack and nodded to Brock. "Take what you want. If we're going against HYDRA and the Winter Soldier, you need to be armed."

"But if you betray us…" said Natasha, taking a gun off the rack and weighting it thoughtfully in her hand, leaving the threat unspoken. She turned and walks from the room.

Clint watched her leave. "HYDRA did try and blow her and Steve up," he said, apologetically.

"I understand."

"Do you?" Clint cocked his head to one side. "Because I confess I don't. You and I had a fair few missions together. I thought I knew you, and what kind of man you were. And I could understand being wrong. Double agents, lies, traitors. You're not in our business if you don't understand all that. But you coming here to save Bucky, it doesn't feel like I was all wrong."

"Cap still thinks this is a trap. In fact, I think all of you believe I'm playing some kind of long game here."

"True most of us do," said Clint with a shrug. "I guess that means either they're all wrong, or I am. Suppose the odds are in favor of the former."

"There's no trap. But when it comes to what kind of man I am, you are dead wrong." Brock grabbed a nightstick and a gun from off the wall and the two men headed for the roof, where Steve was prepping the jet.

As they passed the doorway, Natasha was there, hanging back. She grabbed Clint's arm and halted him for a moment. As Brock walked ahead, she lowered her voice.

"Clint, you can't honestly believe Rumlow? He was right in the heart of SHEILD working for HYDRA. Everything he says is a lie. He cannot be trusted. I understand how you feel. I know you two went through a lot of missions together. But I've been on missions with him too. And I saw the real Brock Rumlow. You weren't there when SHEILD fell. But believe me, Rumlow is the enemy. Rumlow is HYDRA. And before this is done, he'll show his true self."

"Maybe."

"Not maybe. There's a trap here and we're walking straight into it to save Barnes. The only way we get out of the trap, is by knowing it's there and being prepared."

"I'm not saying you're wrong Nat. But remember, people aren't always what they appear. I once had an order to track down a very deadly, Russian agent, and kill her. And I didn't. I've never regretted that decision. All I want to do now is keep an open mind. Remember, he came to us."

Natasha let go of his arm. "I'm not Brock Rumlow."

"Maybe you could have been. Maybe I could have been. I don't know. All I know is who I'm being told this man is, and the man I've known, doesn't add up. And I want to know why not."


End file.
